


Legion and Alliance Be Damned

by LilyOrchard, MikailaT



Series: Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [10]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Angst, Romance, Violence, War, World of Warcraft: Legion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 34,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27059242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyOrchard/pseuds/LilyOrchard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikailaT/pseuds/MikailaT
Summary: The war against the Legion is long and perilous, but Anevay has taken out bigger monsters than Sargeras and his ilk before, she can do it again. A collection of moments from the Legion's invasion and Argus.
Relationships: Dark Ranger Kalira/Alleria Windrunner, Jaina Proudmoore/Original Female Character(s), Sylvanas Windrunner/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939501
Comments: 66
Kudos: 93





	1. Seek Out Greener Pastures

**Year 32 - The Burning Legion's Third Invasion**

Anevay sighed as she fastened her bracers to her arms. A good four months had passed since she had returned from Draenor, and she had recovered for the most part. Her body had regained its muscle and she was no longer in danger of dying of malnutrition. In fact, this upcoming battle was to be her first since returning, thanks to the ever-present protection of Sylvanas keeping her from being sent out to do grunt work. The Burning Legion had returned, spewing from a portal in the Tomb of Sargeras. The scouts had returned the day before, panicked and in a frenzy, and both the Alliance and the Horde had scrambled to get an assault force together. Anevay was to be on the first ship out, along with Baine, Sylvanas, and a large force of Tauren and Forsaken troops. They would also meet with the 7th Legion and the Argent Crusade.

To say she was nervous was an understatement. Anevay had a knack for winning difficult battles, but she always dreaded these massive wars for the fate of Azeroth. She always dreaded the next one would be her last. True that she made it this long relatively alright, yet there was always that question in the back of her mind. Was it skill or luck? As time went on, she became more inclined to believe the latter, which made her all the more nervous. When would her luck run out? When would the other boot drop?

Her thoughts came to a halt when she heard a light rapping on the door to her chambers.

“Anevay?” came the unmistakable voice of Sylvanas. Her Queen. Her lover. The woman who had come to mean so many things to the Blood Elf. 

“Yes?” Anevay asked, turning around and smiling at the Dark Lady. Even in these dire times, even looking at Sylvanas brought a smile to her face.

“I came to see if you were prepared,” Sylvanas said, stepping through the threshold into her living space. The Banshee Queen was as hauntingly beautiful as she ever was. A loveliness that could nonetheless strike terror into the hearts of lesser beings. Anevay, of course, was not a lesser being. She always found comfort in the dark beauty that was her queen, although she could tell something was amiss. There was a slight crease in Sylvanas’ brow and her lips were turned into a subtle yet pronounced frown. Beneath her usual veil of almost sinister aloofness, Anevay could see worry behind her eyes.

“Has your armor and blades been tended to?” Sylvanas asked. “Have you enough healing potions? You remembered to pack the horn I gave you to call upon my Val’kyr?”

“Yes, I have everything I need,” Anevay nodded with a small smile. “There’s no need to fuss over me, my Queen. This isn’t my first calamity.”

“I am not _fussing_ ,” Sylvanas huffed indignantly, her ears folding against the hood of her cloak. “I am simply being… cautious.”

Anevay finished fastening her last bracer and approached her lover with affection practically written on her face. “Whatever you say, my Queen,” she said as she wrapped her arms around Sylvanas’ waist and pulled her in for a tight and indulgent hug. A small gasp escaped Sylvanas’ lips followed by a low purr as she melted into the hug. The concern she was feeling was still present, though nowhere near as overbearing. The magic of Anevay’s touch had a talent for easing her woes. Her arms wrapped tightly around her lover’s back as she rested her face in the crook of her neck. 

“...You said Archimonde was dealt with on Draenor, yes?” 

“Yes I did,” Anevay nodded as she rubbed Sylvanas’ back in small circles. “He died shortly after he threw Gul’dan through the portal.”

Sylvanas didn’t exactly breathe a sigh of relief, but the lingering tension in her body did release somewhat upon an exhale. “Well, there’s that at least,” she murmured. The Banshee Queen had only encountered Archimonde once when Kel’thuzad first summoned him to Azeroth, but it was enough of an impression to know she didn’t want to face him on the battlefield again. Not after what it took to defeat him last time. Or rather, the first time.

“There’s only Kil’jaeden to deal with,” Anevay nodded, kissing Sylvanas’ cheek. “And I’ve already defeated him once before. I can do it again.”

Sylvanas should have been comforted by that. Consciously, she knew that Anevay was fully capable of facing against that demon lord, or any demon for that matter. She had seen the Blood Elf on the battlefield too many times to genuinely doubt her aptitude. She knew that Anevay was as ready for the battle ahead as she would ever be. Even still...

“...If you need more time to prepare, you can rendezvous with the Warchief and join his forces,” she offered. “I can ensure we have a foothold for when you arrive.”

“Hey,” Anevay said, reaching up and touching Sylvanas’ cheek softly. “Nothing’s going to stop me from meeting the Legion by your side. Not even your overprotective paranoia.”

Sylvanas felt a defensive dismissal just behind her tongue, but it died in her throat under the intensity of Anevay’s affectionate gaze. “...All right,” she sighed, leaning into Anevay’s touch. “I simply want it on the record that I don’t want you in this fight. I will allow it, but I reserve the right to be… fussy.”

“Deal,” Anevay nodded, standing on her toes and leaning in to kiss her lover softly. In recent weeks, she’d been seeking out Sylvanas’ affection more and more, finding herself unable to go more than an hour without kissing her sometimes. Sylvanas would huff at times, saying that she was in the middle of something important, but there was no genuine anger behind her words and she never once denied her lover. 

She hummed approvingly into the kiss, raising a hand to gently comb through Anevay’s auburn hair. Despite the fact that she was wearing clawed gauntlets, she did not snag on anything. ‘It’s all in the technique,’ she would explain boastfully to Anevay. As the kiss inevitably ended, Sylvanas remained close. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you out there,” she whispered. “You have my word."

"And I'll do the same for you, my Queen," Anevay purred. She leaned into Sylvanas' hand and cooed softly. "Nothing will harm you as long as I draw breath."

“Not even if I order you to go evacuate civilians?” Sylvanas inquired with a small lopsided grin. Her quip was met with a deadpan stare from the smaller woman. “...Your pardon, Dalah’surfal,” she said remorsefully. “Just trying to ease the tension I’m feeling.”

“Well let’s try not to ease the tension with the most horrible thing ever witnessed with mortal eyes,” Anevay said tersely as she sheathed her warblade along with her knives.

“You don’t need to tell me how terrible it was. I was there.” The flicker of annoyance on Sylvanas’ expression suddenly passed like a trick of the light and she returned to appearing somber. “...Sorry.”

Anevay nodded and returned to Sylvanas’ embrace, squeezing her tighter as the memories of that horrible day flashed through her mind. “It’s fine. I just don’t like to think about it if I can help it. And I know that’s weird because I just saw it, you were the victim. But…” she trailed off, burying her face into Sylvanas’ chest.

The worry that Sylvanas felt did not fade so much as it did simply shift. The lingering dread for Anevay’s safety in the trials to come suddenly transmuted into an uncontrollable urge to console her. To chase away the fears and anxieties plaguing her lover's mind. She wrapped one arm around the small of Anevay’s back whilst the other gently threaded through her hair again. “That won’t happen again,” Sylvanas assured her gently. “There is nothing they can do to me that would be worse than losing you.”

Anevay didn’t respond, and simply squeezed her tighter. The more the memories played through her mind, the more she didn’t want to let go. She just wanted to hide from the sounds, the screams, the anguished cries. She didn’t ever want to think about that day ever again. “You know this could possibly be the end, right?” Anevay asked, finally looking up. “The Legion isn’t anything to sneeze at.”

“All the more reason I’d rather you not be in this fight,” Sylvanas whispered delicately. “If I had it my way, you’d be on another world far away from here starting a new and better life for yourself.”

“What about you?” Anevay asked, running a hand down Sylvanas’ cheek. “You sound as if I’m going to this new world alone?”

Sylvanas face fell slightly, her ears practically falling limp against her head. “...Despite what you may believe, you’ve always deserved more than what I can provide you.”

“My Queen, please don’t tell me you’re breaking up with me just because you don’t think you’re worth it,” Anevay pursed her lips. She was being sarcastic, but she did grip Sylvanas tighter.

The Blood Elf’s tone did usher a small chuckle from the Banshee’s throat, which was surprisingly bereft of it’s haunting edge. “I would not break your heart so malevolently, Dalah’surfal,” she assured her softly. “I will simply wait for you to grow weary of me and seek out greener pastures.”

“You really think I would do that?” Anevay raised an eyebrow.

“...I would rather you not, but if you did I wouldn’t blame you,” Sylvanas said, her tone dangerously close to meek. It wasn’t of course. The Banshee Queen was never meek. However, anything that was lacking the cold, detached, borderline malevolent disposition that she was known for sounded dangerously vulnerable as a result. “Fate has a habit of being cruel to me. Nothing would be crueler than for it to take you away. However, I’d rather you leave on your own accord than be ensnared by death.” 

Anevay pursed her lips as she stroked Sylvanas’ cheek. If there was one thing about her Queen that she could easily say she didn’t like, it was her defeatist attitude and the way she spoke about herself. She understood why she had that attitude, but that didn’t make hearing Sylvanas degrade herself any easier to listen to.

“And what if I don’t leave? Or die?” Anevay asked, running her thumb over a particularly rough patch on her cheek. “What if instead, I stayed for good? What if instead I decided that I couldn’t live without you? What if instead, I said that dreaded word I know you don’t want me to say?”

Sylvanas prickled, despite the comforting warmth of Anevay’s touch. She knew what was about to happen. What was about to be said. “...You wouldn’t,” she said impotently. A stupid declaration. She knew very well Anevay would. There was no reason to assume that she wouldn’t. But perhaps, maybe it was what Sylvanas needed to hear.

“What if instead, I went on to wed the Banshee Queen?” Anevay said silkily, a cheeky grin on her face.

Sylvanas gasped. It was such a small gasp that the layman wouldn’t have been able to hear it. On Anevay’s ears, however, it was more beautiful and melodious than an entire Naaru choir. “...Would you?” Sylvanas asked. “Would you be willing to wed death itself?” 

“Maybe one day,” Anevay smiled, kissing Sylvanas’ cheek. “It’s a much more pleasant daydream than thinking about us splitting apart and me going to an entirely different world. I was just on a different world, it’s not that great.”

Sylvanas chuckled softly, her embrace over Anevay becoming a degree warmer. “I suppose it is better to weather storms together than apart,” she conceded gently as she rested her forehead against her lover’s. “...I would be honored to weather all storms by your side if you’ll have me.”

“I’d like that,” Anevay smiled, wrapping her arms around Sylvanas’ neck and hugging her close. After listening to the way her lover spoke about herself, she was struck with the urge to never let go. This moment was positively blissful. Something that Sylvanas was still growing accustomed to. This perfect air of uninterrupted joy and comfort where the both of them could just forget about the rest of the world for a while. 

At least until they heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat at the doorway. 

“Your pardon, my Queen,” Nathanos interjected dryly. “But the airship is nearly ready to depart.” 

“We’ll be there in a moment, Nathanos,” Sylvanas said without even turning around. She just needed a moment longer to hold this woman. Just another while in Anevay’s arms to muster the courage to go out there and face the Legion.


	2. Knock on Wood

Anevay emerged from the water, hauling an Orc in one hand and a Draenei in the other onto the shore. The entire island was crawling with demons, and she couldn’t think with the echoing mess of infernal growls and the shrieks of bats. She laid the unconscious fighters onto the sand and looked up to see King Varian and some of their forces setting up a barricade. She ran to them and helped get the last few spikes into the ground.

“Where’s the Dark Lady?” she yelled over the roar of a Fel Reaver.

A Fel bat swooped down to try and snatch the High King in its talons only for Shalamane to sear through its torso and sending it crashing into the ocean behind them for it’s trouble. 

“She went ahead to draw their attention to allow us to set a perimeter!” Varian explained. “I haven’t seen her since!” 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Anevay growled, running her warblade through a felguard and kicking a felhound off a fallen night elf. “That woman’s always running off, I fucking swear…”

A fel hound began charging towards Anevay at top speed, fangs bared and tendrils flailing. It made it within a few yards before a barrage of dark arrows found their place in the demon’s back and sent it skidding into the dirt. Anevay turned around to see the fallen demon and a Dark Ranger pulling her spent arrows out of it. 

“Lady Darkflare,” Kalira greeted respectfully. “What’s the situation? I have not found the Dark Lady.”

“I just got out of the water,” Anevay shook her head. “Varian said she went to establish a perimeter. She can be so damn impulsive, which I love.” Anevay smiled warmly before suddenly remembering where she was and composing herself. “I mean, it’s a liability! We can’t fight without our commander!”

Kalira cocked a curious brow, opening her mouth to respond before another voice beat her to the punch. 

_“Warriors of the Horde!”_ Came the unmistakable voice of Sylvanas. Anevay and Kalira heard the Dark Lady’s words, not on the winds themselves, but within their own minds. _“I am fending off demon masses in the Broken Valley! To me! Now!”_

Anevay perked up and smiled. “Alright! The Broken Valley!” she exclaimed, grabbing her warblade out of the chest of a Felguard and speeding off out of the barricade. “That’s only five minutes from here! I need a small group of warriors and a half a dozen archers!” She called out as she cut through several Felhounds.

“I can gather them,” Kalira nodded, rushing back to the shore and scouring through the wreckage for able fighters. 

Anevay continued speeding across the beach and over several rocky passes until she came to the valley: A low field of stone and ash cut into the mountain that had demons trying to cross it to reach the Alliance and the Horde. Sylvanas and three Dark Rangers were raining arrows down into the valley from a cliffside, thinning out the demon ranks from a position where they could do nothing about it.

“I’m here, Dalah’su-” Anevay cut herself off quickly and cleared her throat. “My Queen! Reinforcements are coming quickly!”

“They better be!” Sylvanas responded, not taking her eyes off the enemies before them. “We’re very low on arrows right now!” 

Anya turned to flash Anevay a curious look. “What was that you called Sylvanas just no-”

“FOCUS!” Sylvanas snapped, prompting Anya to flinch slightly and return her attention to the battle.

Anevay pulled out her spyglass to see Kalira coming with reinforcements. Smiling, she stowed it back onto her belt and unsheathed her warblade, running for the slope out of the valley to meet the demons head on, despite Sylvanas’ vocal protests.

“Darkflare, don’t-” It was too late. Anevay was already pulling her warblade out of the spilled entrails of one Felguard and carving through another. “Dammit! Cover her!” 

A wave of black arrows fired around Anevay, pinning down all the demons that threatened to rush her. After a moment longer, an even larger wave of arrows came to the Blood Elf’s aid as Kalira and the others arrived. “Dark Lady!” Kalira called out, offering several quivers of spare arrows to her and her fellow Rangers. “We came as soon as we could!”

“Good! Get your arrows flying immediately!” Sylvanas ordered as she moved around the other side of the cliff. Anevay was down in the valley with the foot soldiers, cutting through the remainder of the demons that tried to reach the shore. It was practically a meat grinder from where the Banshee Queen was standing. Anevay was careful to direct her men so as to not take friendly fire. The woman was always exceptionally good at working with her rangers.

A flare of Fel green caught Sylvanas’ eyes. The portal that resided within the tomb of Sargeras was welling with power, meaning that more demons were pouring out. An irritated snarl grew on her lips as she let loose another flurry of arrows. They were only just holding this position and there were more demons inbound. If reinforcements didn’t show up soon…

* * *

They had advanced deeper into the island, gaining little bits of ground thanks to careful tactics and the rest of the Alliance and Horde forces getting mobilized. As their combined forces held the demons at bay waiting for their reinforcements, Sylvanas and Anevay retreated to a cliff to meet with Baine, Varian and Jaina. As they arrived, Jaina practically glared daggers at them. Her eyes burned with arcane magic and she looked ready to strike.

“What are _they_ doing here?!” Jaina snarled.

“The Burning Legion is invading, in case you didn’t notice,” Anevay said snidely. “But it’s good to know your priorities are as skewed as Genn's.”

Jaina opened her mouth to speak before Sylvanas interjected, addressing King Wrynn. “We have a problem.”

“Tell me it’s not about our reinforcements,” Varian said, exasperated. 

“They should be here within the hour, but the Legion is crafting smaller portals around the tomb to usher in even more forces. We might be overrun before they get here.”

“There’s got to be a way to slow them down,” Varian growled as he looked out over the battle.

“We could Blight them,” Anevay suggested with a shrug.

Varian looked at Anevay incredulously before slowly turning his attention to Sylvanas. “You didn’t actually bring-”

“No, Wrynn,” Sylvanas deadpanned. “I decided that this war with the Legion should be fought with honor so we can all have a warrior’s dea- **_Of course I brought the Blight! What do you take me for!?”_ **

“I will go salvage our canisters from the wreckage, my Queen,” Anya said, before dashing back to the shore.

“I’ll get the catapults ready to fire,” Anevay nodded before Sylvanas grasped her shoulder.

“Not you,” she said firmly before nodding to Velonara. “You, go.”

Anevay looked at Sylvanas, a question already on her lips. 

“We need our heaviest hitter on the front so the Legion doesn’t catch wise to our strategy,” Sylvanas explained. 

“How much time do you expect one warrior to buy us?” Varian asked. 

“Pick a number,” Sylvanas replied. “Darkflare will likely double it just to spite you.”

“Spite Wrynn, impress you,” Anevay smirked at Sylvanas. “Either or is fine with me.”

“Behave, Champion,” Sylvanas chided, a playful grin threatening to rise on her lips before turning her attention to Jaina. “Proudmoore? You think you can channel your insatiable bloodlust on the demons instead of my warrior to offer her cover fire?”

Jaina sneered at the both of them, but nodded in concession. “Fine.”

“Wonderful. Always a pleasure,” Sylvanas drawled.

Anevay and Jaina turned toward the front lines, with Jaina casting a suspicious glance at Anevay as they went. “What was that about impressing Windrunner?”

“...I’m her Champion? It’s kinda what I do?” Anevay said, confusion etched on her face as they descended the mountain pass. “Why?”

The arcane that illuminated Jaina’s eyes flickered as a myriad of fleeting expressions crossed her face. “...Nevermind,” she said, turning her attention to the demons amassing at the bottom of the pass. 

“...That was weird,” Anevay furrowed her brow as they continued down the pass. “Alright, so I think a few ice barricades and then some shards raining from the sky if that’s not too much hassle.”

Jaina nodded while a grimace formed on her lips, two elementals spontaneously rising from the ground beneath them. “If I still had the Focusing Iris I could just drown this whole isle and be done with it. I guess we’ll just have to make due.”

“If you drowned the entire isle, you’d drown us along with it,” Anevay narrowed her eyes as she fumbled with something inside her cloak.

“No plan is perfect,” Jaina shrugged, a glowing mass of arcane forming in her free hand.

“Well, the Focusing Iris is out,” Anevay shrugged. “Would any other powerful artifact do to give you some extra firepower?”

“Anything that doesn’t naturally repel my arcane would do,” Jaina explained, daring to look away from the encroaching demons to flash Anevay a curious brow. “...Why?”

Anevay pulled her hand out of her cloak and held it out to Jaina. A jagged piece of steel rested in her palm, and by the rune inscribed on it, she recognized it instantly. It was a shard of Frostmourne, still hissing with the blade’s power. Jaina’s eyes widened with shock, her mind suddenly storming with questions. One rang our louder than the countless others. 

“Why do you have that!?”

“A trophy from my greatest kill,” Anevay shrugged. “...In truth, I have it to ensure nobody can ever reforge that cursed blade. I’ve wielded it before. It’s truly a horrible piece of weaponry.”

There were several more questions Jaina wanted to ask, including but not limited to why Sylvanas would allow such a thing. Alas, the demons were growing too near for her to voice those concerns with any degree of comfort. Hastily, she accepted the jagged shard, instantly feeling it’s power as she cautiously held it in her hand. It was cold. Perhaps the coldest metal she ever felt. A cold that could numb the mind as well as the body. Love, remorse and fear suddenly felt very far away in the mage’s mind. 

But anger? Hatred? Bloodlust? Those seemed to come easy. 

Her eyes flashed brighter as the blue power they held grew even colder than before. The ice that hovered around her being grew darker as a practically malevolent grin flashed before the approaching Felguards. 

“This should prove therapeutic,” she said before a storm of ice and wind suddenly broke the formation of the Legion before them.

Anevay pulled her cloak over her face as the wind took razor sharp icicle shards along with it. The storm grew and grew until it tore through half the island, tearing through demons like a Dalaran chef with a fresh pair of knives. Anevay felt a few shards cut into the leather of her glove and slice her fingers, but she continued covering her face as she felt the wind only pick up steam.

“Hey! Be careful! You might kill our soldiers!” she yelled over the roar of the wind.

“Then they should give me room to work!” Jaina called back, all but cackling as her frost continued to carve through the demons before them. Felfire met deathly cold ice and merely caused it to melt. Her elementals, now imbued with darker magic, were just as dark in their tactics. One felguard’s head was trapped in the limb of one of the aquatic constructs. It continued to writhe and flail until falling limp, causing the elemental to discard the fresh corpse and move onto their next victim.

Anevay heard the sounds of demons squealing as they died and winced. No matter how many battles she fought against demons, they always had the most blood-curdling death sounds imaginable. Well, second most at least.

The blizzard intensified and the demons started to become shredded by ice moving so fast it couldn’t even melt in the demonfire. There wasn’t a safe place to stand within a square mile, and Anevay was starting to think she ought to take the shard from Jaina sooner rather than later. Jaina was powerful, and had a vengeful hatred of the Horde. If Anevay wasn’t careful, she could easily turn this bolstered power onto her.

Or Sylvanas.

“Darkflare!”

Speak of the devil. 

“We are prepared! Fall back!” 

“Got it!” Anevay nodded, turning back to call out to Jaina. “Proudmoore, let’s go!”

“Five more minutes please!” Jaina called back, her tone unnervingly singsong. 

“Blight beats frost everytime, Proudmoore! Let’s GO!”

Anevay dropped her cloak and seized Jaina’s wrist, prying the shard out of her hand and stowing it away in her cloak. The blizzard died the moment Jaina was relieved of the shard, and Anevay looked disturbed at the catastrophe she had nearly unleashed on Azeroth. “Okay… no more of that for you,” she said as she turned to head back to where Sylvanas was waiting for her.

Whatever retort Jaina was on the cusp of saying died on her lips as she was hit with an almost incapacitating moment of vertigo. Doing so much as taking a step forward threatened to topple her over. Blinking hard to refocus her vision, she saw where Anevay was headed. She whispered a small incantation beneath her breath and appeared beside her in a flash of light. 

“Wear yourself out, Proudmoore?” Sylvanas asked with an amused grin. Her grin turned a touch warmer as Anevay approached. “You did well, Champion. Would you like to issue the command?” She extended a hand, gesturing to the line of Blight loaded catapults that were readied atop the pass.

“Oh, and I didn’t get you anything,” Anevay smiled, patting Sylvanas’ shoulder as she headed toward the catapults.

“Bring me victory, and we’ll call it even,” Sylvanas retorted playfully, catching Jaina’s look of utter confusion in her periphery. “...What?” 

“You two are awfully friendly,” Jaina pursed her lips as she eyed the both of them.

“Jealous?” Sylvanas quipped, earning an indignant scoff from the mage. 

“Fire!” Anevay called out, prompting their artillery to launch their payload onto the encroaching demons. The canisters blossomed into dense clouds of thick green fog. The demons could be heard choking and gasping for air as they fought to escape the Blight. Every demon that did, fell limp against the ground shortly after. Soon the bottom of the mountain pass was simply piled with demonic bodies.

Anevay strolled around the catapults as she watched the carnage unfold, delighted to see how effectively the Blight was at decimating their enemies. “I’ll never get tired of ordering a Blight bombing,” she smiled as she watched the piles grow bigger as demons tried to crawl over the bodies to get out. “And all these canyons makes it so easy to cut the demons off completely, doesn’t it Dalah’s… my Queen?”

“Indeed it does,” Sylvanas said with a pleased smirk. “However we’ll have to use our remainder wisely. Only so many canisters survived the crash.”

Jaina appeared incredulous as she steadied herself on her staff. “What did she call yo-” 

“ _The point is,_ ” Sylvanas cut through. “We bought ourselves a moment of breathing room.” 

Varian’s eyes were fixed on the Blighted ground, a scowl turned on his face as the green mist still hadn’t dissipated. “...It won’t be long before the Legion finds another way to reach our position,” he warned, choosing not to voice the concerns he was actually feeling.

“By then the rest of our forces will be here,” Anevay explained as she looked out over the battlefield. “We’ve bought ourselves precious time. We need to fortify our position and prepare to advance. If we’re careful enough, we can push them back to the tomb.”

“Good.” Sylvanas said, casting her gaze to the warriors taking but a moment’s rest. “Ready our fortifications! Use scrap from the wreckage if you must! I want this to be the most defended rock Azeroth has ever seen!” 

Even Alliance soldiers leapt into action when faced with the threat of trying the Banshee Queen’s patience. The foundations of barricades were being laid about their newly established perimeter. Catapults and ballista were secured behind high shields to fend off any forward damage. Warriors manned the gaps between their walls, on the look out for any stragglers who were feeling particularly reckless. As the fortifications were being constructed, Sylvanas tugged on Anevay’s arm and guided her down the back pass to the beach that had been mostly secured. They ducked behind a cliff, out of immediate sight of the rest of their forces, and Sylvanas immediately grabbed Anevay and pushed her against the rock.

“You know this could be our last battle,” she said, holding her tightly by the upper arms.

“I know,” Anevay nodded, looking up into Sylvanas’ burning red eyes.

Sylvanas nearly faltered, the fire and passion that burned in her lover’s emerald gaze threatening to cause her to collapse in her arms. “...Know that, whatever happens… you were the best thing to ever happen to me since the Fall. I will go to my final death believing that.”

Anevay smiled and lifted a hand to Sylvanas’ cheek. “You were the best thing to happen to me _ever_ ,” she whispered. “This time, I’m not leaving your side.”

“I know you won’t,” Sylvanas said, her voice cracking despite her best efforts. “...I just fear having to watch you die.”

“Well if I have to die, I’ll try and do it behind your back,” Anevay laughed humorlessly. The smile on her face betrayed the almost hostile way Sylvanas was pinning her to the rock.

Sylvanas’ eyes darted to and fro. Her ears shifted in a way to suggest she was listening to see if anyone was close by. Neither of her senses detected such a thing, prompting her to just say “Oh, fuck it,” and pull Anevay in for a heated, desperate kiss.

Anevay melted in Sylvanas’ grasp almost instantly, wrapping her arms around her neck and pulling her in close. She clung to her lover as she returned the kiss with a desperate hunger that she’d last felt when she was leaving for Draenor. She mewled softly when she felt Sylvanas’ fangs graze over her lip, almost threatening to puncture the skin. The kiss was indulgent, passionate and lasted longer than what might have been advised. Sylvanas was beyond caring at this point. If this was to be their final stand, it would be beside the woman that came to mean everything to her. 

“I love you,” she whispered, barely pulling away from the kiss to murmur those words against Anevay’s lips.

“I love you too,” Anevay whispered, her eyes only barely opening. It was moments like this where she was struck with the overwhelming realization of just how much she did love her. This woman she’d admired since she was a child, and who had thrice snatched her out of the grim jaws of fate to bring her a happiness she had never known before. “I want us to survive this.”

“As do I,” Sylvanas nodded, her voice dripping with sincerity that lesser people would see as uncharacteristic. “...And with you by my side, we just might.” 

“I hope so,” Anevay nodded. She kissed Sylvanas’ cheek and held her close, reluctant to give up the comforting chill of her lover’s embrace. “I want to see how far this can go, Dalah’surfal.”

“If the hands of fate, try to deny us, we will force them to comply,” Sylvanas murmured sweetly, leaning forward for another quick kiss. “Legion and Alliance be damned.”

“Thank you,” Anevay cooed.

“If you two are done?” came the ice-cold voice of Jaina Proudmoore behind them. “There’s still a war going on.”

Both women bristled hard, realizing they were too entranced with each other to have noticed Proudmoore's approach, be that on foot or by blink. Slowly, Sylvanas withdrew from Anevay’s embrace, turning to flash a glare to Jaina. The kind of glare Anevay had seen cause lesser creatures to quite literally die of fright. Jaina herself didn’t appear so skittish, but no especially venomous words came from her as Sylvanas trekked back up to their foothold. 

Jaina’s attention turned to Anevay, whose back was still up against the stone they were hidden behind. “If you two were trying to keep this secret, you aren’t doing a very good job.”

“Quiet, Proudmoore,” Anevay glared at the mage, fully ready to draw her warblade if it came to that. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten Dalaran, so choose your words carefully.”

“What was that you said earlier about priorities?” Jaina inquired with a cocked brow. “Besides, what will you do? Kill me with the power that slaughtered the people you claim to champion? One of whom is your supposed lover?”

“Don’t turn this around!” Anevay exclaimed. “Threaten me or her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do, Lich-loving mongrel!”

“I don’t need to threaten either of you,” Jaina said, shaking her head. “This will crash and burn around you both. Mark my words. And it will do so very quickly if you don’t return to the front and help us fend off this invasion.” 

“Don’t presume to know how my relationships work, Proudmoore!” Anevay snarled. “I’m not you! I don’t run away when things get difficult! I’m not a coward!”

Eyes flared bright blue with mana. The hand gripping her staff tightened as the focusing crystal flared with life. The mage’s entire body tensed as she fought to maintain control. She released the breath she held through her nostrils before addressing Anevay again. 

“...Prove it,” she said sharply, “and get back on that front.”

“I will when I’m good and ready,” Anevay growled. “I’ve saved Azeroth enough times that I’ve earned a personal moment before another calamity. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she gestured toward the path, silently ordering Jaina to leave.

Jaina sneered, soon becoming enveloped in blue light and vanishing from the spot.

“Foul witch,” Anevay snarled. She had no sympathy for Jaina Proudmoore. Not after the Purge of Dalaran, where she took her desire for vengeance out on shopkeepers and tradespeople. That Jaina was still in a position of power in the Alliance made her want to tear the flesh from Varian’s bones. She only sighed and followed Sylvanas back up the pass, dejected that their moment had been completely and utterly ruined. And quietly wondering if they would ever get another before the end.

* * *

On Sylvanas’ order, Anevay had slid down the side of the cliff to aid the Alliance in their push at the portal. She wasn’t entirely happy about it, but Sylvanas had made an excellent case that she was needed against the worst of the Legion, especially with the Alliance floundering so badly. Most of the Alliance leaders were too occupied to object, but Varian put a hand on her shoulder during the battle and thanked her.

Jaina and Greymane aside, the High King was actually almost tolerable, Anevay thought.

All of that changed, however, when Sylvanas blew the horn and the Dark Rangers turned away from the cliff, much to the shock and horror of the Alliance.

“No… she wouldn’t,” Varian whispered.

Anevay kept her eyes to the sky and saw Brynja and Signe carrying Thrall and Baine into the sky. Her face grew pale at the sight. She was signalling a retreat? But she was still down there…

 _‘Dark Lady?’_ she thought, hoping that Sylvanas could hear the words spoken in her mind and commune with her telepathically, as she often did across long distances. There was nothing. _'_ _Sylvanas? ...Dalah’surfal!?”_

Still nothing.

“...Retreat!” Anevay yelled out, clapping Varian on the shoulder. “We have to retreat!”

Varian’s head whipped to look at Anevay. Then back to the Portal. They were so close. Perhaps if they pushed a little harder.

“My Lord!” Genn called out, rushing to Varian’s side. “Without the Horde, we’ll be overrun! We must retreat.” 

Varian was quiet for a moment as he slowly sheathed Shalamane onto his back. “...Get everyone to the Gunship,” he said firmly before pointing to Anevay. “Including _her.”_

Genn snarled at Anevay, and she could tell the wolf was about ten seconds from lunging at her throat. “...Everyone! Fall back!”

Anevay rushed to pull soldiers to their feet, slaying the demons that moved in for the kill as she did so. Even Silysa was too injured to stand up on her own. She and a few other able bodied soldiers hauled them to the gunship and into the waiting arms of their companions. As Anevay made to climb the rope ladder, Genn continued to snarl at her.

“You can settle your issues with me after the Legion is defeated,” she snapped as she climbed up the ladder.

“Don’t talk as if the witch holding your leash didn’t-” 

“Genn!” Varian barked, a warning in his tone causing the older man to snort in relent.

As they made it onto the deck and the last few people started to climb, the Gunship took to the skies. The crew were helping the last few people on deck when a hole was torn open in the sky and a massive green meteor came streaking toward them. The Gunship veered at Genn’s command, but it turned out the meteor was a massive fel reaver who grabbed the Gunship with a massive, clawed hand.

“We can’t break free!” a crewman said as everyone scurried to get the rest of the stragglers back on board.

Anevay’s attention turned to the thick, fiery talons that held the Gunship aloft. She drew her warblade, aiming to carve the digits off the demonic beasts hand. It was then that an Alliance soldier lost his footing and slid down the skewed deck, colliding into Anevay’s back. Both hands, now bereft of her warblade which slid against the traffrail of the Gunship, scrambled to find purchase against something on the deck. One hand found a divot in the planks of the deck that allowed the claws of her gauntlets to latch onto the sturdy wood. Her other hand found that of the tumbling footman, saving him from falling into the mouth of the Reaver. 

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Anevay exclaimed as the footman started to panic. “Hold on, I got you!”

She tried to pull herself up, but her grip on the deck wasn’t secure enough to get any lift without slipping. She glanced over to the rope ladder just in time to see Varian drop from the ladder and fall toward the Reaver, piercing it’s skull with Shalamayne. The Reaver recoiled and let go of the Gunship, which quickly righted itself and started to pull away from the shore as the crew moved to get everyone on board. With the deck no longer at an angle, Anevay was able to pull herself up just enough to swing the crewman on board and dig her other hand into the planks, trying to scramble onto the deck herself.

Hoisting herself back aboard, her eyes scanned her surroundings for the weapon she had dropped. Luckily, her warblade remained tucked against the traffrail where it fell. 

“Good. I was really not looking forward to replacing you,” she said, collecting her weapon and placing it back in it’s sheath. Looking around, she could see the rest of the crew getting situated, Silysa herself actually tending to a footman who appeared to have injured his leg. Genn remained hunched over the traffrail. The realization that Varian was now lost on the Broken Shore made her realize just how deep in enemy territory she was. Wedged right between Genn Greymane and Jaina Proudmoore. Not an ideal situation to be in, even for someone of her strength. 

It was then that a large explosion diverted her attention and she turned to see Guldan hunched over a pile of ashes with Shalamayne laying on them. 

“Oh no…” Anevay whispered, rushing over to the traffrail and looking out onto the shore.

“No!” Genn cried out to the skies above. The entire crew fell silent as the reality of what just happened became unmistakable. King Varian Wrynn was gone. Died on the field of battle so that they could escape. 

And given Anevay’s situation, she might very well be joining him soon. 

“You!” Genn snarled, turning around to glare at Anevay. “Your Banshee did this!” 

All eyes were on Anevay suddenly. The gazes she saw upon her ranged from confused, distraught and vitriolic. Her hand felt to urge to reach for her warblade, though she felt such an action was one Genn would take as an admission of guilt.

“Guards! Toss her overboard!” Genn commanded. 

“Wait!” Silysa cried out, rushing to Anevay’s side. “King Greymane, we don’t know anything for sure! Either way it’s not her fault!”

“Stand aside, Champion,” Genn snarled, advancing on the two elves. “I’m not going to have the Banshee’s lapdog on my ship!”

“Varian ordered you to let me on the ship!” Anevay fired back, her hand gripping the hilt of her warblade. “Sylvanas left me down there too, Greymane!”

The look of murderous contempt did not ebb on the Gilnean King’s face. 

“Please, everyone! Do not be so quick to cast blame!” Silysa beseeched. “Not when the Legion still poses a threat to us all.” 

The rest of the crew appeared to exchange contemplative looks. Meanwhile the Alliance Champion’s eyes fell on one individual. Jaina. Her gaze appeared pensive while the Mage’s appeared pensive and hesitant. Anevay recognized that they seemed to be having a conversation solely with their eyes. A conversation that likely wouldn’t have meant anything to people who did not know each other well. The Kaldorei’s blue eyes grew more beseeching, causing Jaina to sigh with concession. 

“Varian’s orders were to bring her along,” she said to Genn. “We should honor that command. At least to Stormwind.”

Genn huffed, but otherwise nodded and stomped off toward the lower decks. Jaina nodded to Silysa and otherwise retreated as well. As soon as the deck was clear, Anevay put a hand on Silysa’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Sil,” she said quietly. “I appreciate that.”

Silysa smiled. “You and I have fought too many battles together for me to see you get yeeted to your doom.” 

Anevay furrowed a brow. “Yeeted?”

“I heard some kids around Stormwind saying it,” Silysa said sheepishly. 

“Ah,” Anevay nodded as her eyes drifted to where Jaina had vanished. “Are you and Lady Proudmoore…” she trailed off, gesturing toward the staircase.

Silysa’s eyes widened with panic. “How did you-!?” She cut herself off, harshly clearing her own throat. “Uh, no! O-Of course not! How-However did you come to that conclusion?”

“The way you looked at her? You were almost having a conversation without speaking,” Anevay smiled. “It’s alright, Silysa. I’m not going to out you.”

Silysa nervously darted her eyes too and fro before sighing part with exasperation and part with relief. “...Thanks for that.” A thought crossed her mind that caused her to tense up again. “And… I know she was responsible for that whole Purge fiasco and… that was really shitty of her, but she _is_ getting better. I’m making sure of it.”

“Fine, I’ll hold you to that,” Anevay gave a small, humorless chuckle. “Just as long as you do the same for my lover if it ever comes to that.”

Silysa cocked an eyebrow. “You’re seeing someone? Who?”

“Sylvanas,” Anevay said sheepishly.

Silysa gasped, suddenly throwing her hands over her mouth. “Seriously!?” she asked in a strained whisper.

“Seriously,” Anevay nodded, smiling at her friend’s shocked expression. “The last few months, actually.”

Silysa sputtered for a moment, looking as though Anevay just grew a second head with a vulva in place of a nose. She knew Anevay had a thing for Sylvanas, she'd confessed it before they'd slept together in Dalaran during the Scourge War. To know that it had gone beyond a hopeless fixation was almost unthinkable. “...I… alright,” she said shakily. “I’ll, uh… I’ll do the same for her should it ever come to that… knock on wood.” She accentuated that point by knocking against the traffrail.

“Thanks,” Anevay nodded with a smile, pulling Silysa into a hug and squeezing the kaldorei tightly. “You’re a good friend, Sil.”

Silysa felt a wave of ease settle over her as she returned the hug. “Thanks, Anevay,” she said softly. “You’ve been a good friend too. I know it hasn’t been easy, given everything that’s happened. So I’m thankful you’ve made such an attempt.”

“Hey, before the Shattering you were about the only friend I had,” Anevay said, rubbing Silysa’s back. “That’s actually why I moved to Lordaeron in the first place. Things got pretty dire after the Lich King died.”

“...I remember that you told me about the noose,” Silysa replied, resting her cheek against the top of Anevay’s head. There was a rather emotional exchange between the both of them when they found each other alone in the wilderness of Pandaria and agreed to make camp rather than fight. In that time they managed to catch up and learn what had happened to other since last they met. “...Has it ever gotten that bad again?”

“Uh… Draenor,” Anevay said, pulling away slightly and nodding. “The Horde gave me no resources and I nearly starved to death keeping my people going. There were times I was tempted to drink the Blight. I only didn’t because I promised Sylvanas I’d come back alive.”

Silysa’s brow furrowed slightly. She chewed at the inside of her cheek as she carefully considered her next words. “And… Sylvanas. Is she… you know, _good_ to you?”

“She’s wonderful,” Anevay smiled. “A little too self-deprecating, but I’ll get her out of that habit eventually. We’re keeping it quiet for now, though.”

“I can understand that,” Silysa said with a relieved smile. “I think Genn would pop a blood vessel if he found out.” She pinched the air in front of her lips and ran them along one end to the other. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything. Jaina and I are keeping things quiet too. Especially since… well, Kalec.”

“What happened with Kalec?” Anevay asked, raising an eyebrow. She figured it had something to do with their argument during Garrosh’s trial, but that only gave her a vague idea. “And how did this start anyway?”

Silysa did another double take around them to make sure no one still on deck was within earshot. “...Well, I heard them have a fight about how Jaina was handling her trauma. Needless to say I disagreed, but I took to privately consoling Jaina after the fact over trying to make a scene then and there.” Her cheeks tinted with a darker shade of purple as she recalled the memory. “When I told her that she wasn’t wrong for still hurting… she kissed me. And… well, then some. It started after that, but it was a while before she officially broke it off with Kalec.”

“That’s kind of similar to how things started with me and Sylvanas,” Anevay nodded with a warm smile. “She was distraught after her little sister abandoned her, and I gave her some felblood tea and biscuits to comfort her. Apparently she started having feelings for me after that point. She actually kissed me goodbye before I left for Draenor.”

“Awww, that’s actually really sweet.” A warm smile grew on Silysa’s lips before falling just as quickly. “...I’m sorry I didn’t join you on Draenor. I wanted to, but Shan’do Stormrage had me occupied with other things. Typical Old God trite.”

“Of course,” Anevay nodded as she grasped Silysa’s hands. “It’s alright. We won. I just wish we could have won in a way that didn’t require me to take a month of recovery afterward.”

“Did Sylvanas at least make the recovery pleasant?” Silysa asked, squeezing Anevay’s hands affectionately. 

“Immeasurably,” Anevay confirmed. “She’s been so doting and affectionate. I swear, that woman is going to spoil me rotten.”

“Well there’s that at least,” Silysa said, her gaze momentarily cast to the ever shrinking broken isles. “...I’m sure she didn’t abandon you on purpose. I’m sure there was a reason.”

“I hope so…” Anevay said, suddenly looking dejected. “If… if she wrote me off as a necessary loss… I don’t know what I would do. She’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Anevay cast her eyes out to the sea, where the Horde ships were little specks on the distance. She desperately wanted to return home, but she couldn’t be sure if she would even be able to do that. She could only hope Anduin would honor his father’s orders. The boy was a pacifist, but Greymane and Proudmoore held his ear far too tightly.


	3. Power Move of the Century

Anevay was led off the Gunship in chains, much to the indignance of Silysa, and led immediately toward the Stockades.

“You can’t just lock her up without letting her see the Prince!” Silysa demanded as she followed the Greyguard along with Greymane. “Especially not for crimes she didn’t commit! That’s a horrible perversion of justice!”

“She is Windrunner’s Champion, so she is guilty as her accomplice,” Genn fired back venomously. “Do not let your soft heart cloud your judgment, warrior.”

“My soft-!?” Silysa’s nostrils flared with smoldering anger as the hand closest to her hilt twitched with the desire for action. 

“Father, a Champion isn’t guilty for the commands of her superiors,” Tess exclaimed, following after them with Lorna in tow. “This is just spite! You’re punishing Darkflare because you think it’ll hurt the Banshee!”

“If she didn’t want her favorite toy to be broken, she shouldn’t have discarded it,” Genn countered dismissively. “She has cost us the life of our King! We will have justice!”

“But this isn’t justice!” Silysa shouted. “It’s not even vengeance! This is just a spiteful power play!” 

“You know Genn, I could break out of these chains without exerting myself,” Anevay said tersely as they led her through the streets. “Me even going along with this is just a courtesy.”

Genn responded by turning around and drawing his pistol, the barrel inches away from Anevay’s forehead. “So you’re saying I should just kill you now, bitch!?”

“Like hell you will!” Silysa snarled, suddenly standing between the two. 

Behind Silysa, Anevay gripped the shard of Frostmourne tightly in her hand, feeling the icy cold steel flare under her grip. She didn’t like the idea of using it as a weapon, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Like it or not, Greymane, you still answer to a High King,” Anevay snarled. “If you want to kill me, go ahead. Let’s see how quickly Stormwind is swimming in Blight after the Dark Lady discovers what you’ve done. Let’s see how you’re remembered after you doom the Alliance for the sake of petty revenge.”

“You think that Sylvanas would even want to avenge you!?” Genn demanded. “You said so yourself! She abandoned you! She doesn’t care about you!” 

“All the more reason you _shouldn’t_ kill her!” Tess shot back.

“I said she left me there, I didn’t say she abandoned me,” Anevay snarled. “But go ahead, Genn. Test that theory. Roll the dice and gamble the Alliance’s fate on it. Kill me and see what happens!”

Greyman’s jaw clenched tightly, pulling back the slide on his pistol to move his shot into place. “Move, Bladewing.” 

“No,” Silysa said firmly. “I’m not going to let you sign the Alliance's death warrant.”

“You’re committing treason right now.” 

“If it’s treason to keep us all from suffering from your stupid decision, then you may as well kill me to because this isn’t an Alliance I believe in!”

“She isn’t committing treason unless Wrynn decides she is,” Anevay smirked wickedly. “Isn’t hereditary monarchy great?”

“Father, just put the pistol down!” Tess demanded. “You’re going to kill her over what? A hunch?! We don’t even know what happened out there!”

“No! _You_ don’t know what happened!” Genn said snidely. “But I was there! I saw the Banshee turn her back on us!” 

“I was there too, Greymane!” Silysa said. “All she did was call for a retreat. That could have happened for any number of reasons and I’m not letting you kill Darkflare until we figure out what it was!”

“I’m not going to-”

“Father, literally what are we risking by taking her before Anduin?!” Tess demanded. “Why must an execution be done now?!”

“The boy hasn’t even had time to grieve over his father and you’re asking him to pass judgement?” Genn balked. 

“If you don’t want him to pass judgment, then let her go!” Tess practically yelled. “The Legion is on our front door and you’re taking out a grudge on the wrong person?!”

“Enough!” Genn snapped at Tess before returning his attention to Silysa. “Bladewing, move!”

“You’re not getting to Darkflare without getting through me,” Silysa said, crossing her arms. “Try explaining that to Anduin.” 

His eyes widened with incredulity and outrage, the pistol quivering slightly in his grip. His expression grew increasingly unhinged, but Silysa did not waver. She didn’t even blink. 

After a tense beat, the pistol slowly lowered. Anevay let out a quiet sigh of relief. She still didn’t know if Sylvanas had abandoned her or not, so her claims that Stormwind would be Blighted was entirely a bluff. Still she gripped the shard of Frostmourne in her hand, her shackles having been snapped under the cover of the argument. They fell limp to her sides, and she no longer made an effort to hide the shard in her hand.

“C’mon, I’ll take you to Anduin,” Tess said, grabbing Anevay by the arm, albeit far more gently than Genn. As she guided her away, Lorna followed alongside them.

“Thanks, Princess,” Anevay nodded. “I appreciate that.”

“Think nothing of it,” Tess said. “I’ve practically made a name for myself keeping my father from doing something monumentally stupid for the sake of posturing.”

“I can see that,” Anevay nodded, glancing at Lorna. “So how long have you two been together?”

Tess and Lorna did a double take to Anevay before looking at each other nervously. “Uh…” Tess said nervously.

“Oh, is it a secret?” Anevay smiled cheekily. “Something of a running trend I see.” 

“That… is not an appropriate conversation to have with someone who is technically a prisoner,” Lorna admonished, though not very firmly given the definite red to her cheeks. 

“I’ll tell you about mine if you tell me about yours,” Anevay smiled. At this point she was going to out herself to the entire Horde if it turned out Sylvanas hadn’t abandoned her anyway, so at this point she didn’t care about the secret anymore.

“With all due respect, Lady Darkflare, I’m not especially interested in making small talk with you,” Lorna frowned. “Don’t think I forgot about that concussion you gave me back in Gilneas.” 

“Eh, you got better,” Anevay shrugged. “Besides, we let you go, didn’t we?”

“...That is true,” Lorna conceded. “I was absolutely certain Windrunner would have made me into a ghoul.” 

“I’m thankful for that, at least,” Tess said, flashing Lorna a warm smile. 

Lorna blushed harder. “ _Tess_ , not in front of the prisoner.”

“Fine, I’ll talk to you then,” Anevay smiled, looking at Tess. “So you really need to reign him in that badly, huh?”

Tess sighed wistfully. “It’s only gotten worse with time. I miss Liam dearly, and while I’m in no rush to forgive Windrunner for killing him… I think my father is genuinely going mad. He refuses to make peace with it. Saying the blood of our Kingdom has run dry.” 

“Regent Lord of Quel’Thalas used to be the same way,” Anevay nodded. “He simmered down eventually, but those first few years… it just wasn’t productive. If Genn’s not careful, he’s going to be fodder for a trap.”

“A trap set by your Queen no doubt,” Tess frowned. 

Eventually, the three of them made their way to Stormwind Keep. A weary sigh escaped Crowley’s lips as she turned to look at Anevay. “Alright, odds are that Anduin has just been told about the fate of his father,” she said. “Whatever happens, understand that his very, _very_ fresh grief may influence his decision.”

“I understand, but I was down there on the ground with the rest of the Alliance on Sylvanas’ orders,” Anevay explained. “Even if she did abandon them to die, I had no say in the matter.”

“And hopefully he will see it that way,” Lorna said, gently tugging on Anevay’s arm to lead them up the steps and into the keep.

The walk to the Throne Room was quiet and tense as the sight of Jaina and Anduin came into view. Anevay narrowed her eyes on the young priest, studying him carefully. She could tell by his rather stiff poise that he was trying to remain composed, and faring better than most men his age would. Her gaze turned up to his eyes, which were deep blue and glimmering with unshed tears. If there was any tell that he was barely holding it together, it was that. 

“Your Highness,” Tess said, calling Anduin and Jaina’s attention. “I hate to interrupt, but we are in need of a decision regarding this prisoner.” 

“...Prisoner?” Anduin asked, recognizing Anevay before him and drawing a look of confusion. 

“Lady Darkflare was brought upon the Gunship on the retreat,” Lorna explained. “One of Varian’s last orders. King Greymane seems to believe that she shares Lady Sylvanas’ guilt for abandoning us on the Broken Shore, but as her presence here is by order of the High King, you have the final say on her fate.”

Anduin narrowed his eyes at Anevay and stood up, approaching the elf who was unshackled and holding something sharp in her hand. He stood almost nose to nose with her before finally speaking. “What happened?” he asked.

“Sylvanas sent me down to aid in the push for the portal,” Anevay explained. “Ten minutes later, she summoned her Val’kyr to take a great deal of wounded off the battlefield. I don’t know exactly what happened, but I’m certain she called a retreat. I was down there, so I highly doubt she simply abandoned Varian to die.” Anduin’s brow furrowed and he turned to look at Jaina. 

“...The horn Sylvanas blew did signal a full retreat,” Jaina said, nodding in confirmation. “...In truth, we all might have all made it to safety were it not for the emergence of that Fel Reaver… which I can’t imagine the Dark Lady planned for.” 

Anduin looked back at Anevay, his expression easing, though only just. “You’re certain this wasn’t a deliberate trap to ensnare the Alliance?”

“I’m absolutely certain,” Anevay nodded as she heard the thumping of a very angry Genn Greymane entering the Keep. “It’s as I said. I was down there as well, so there was no way this was a trap. If Sylvanas wanted to trap the Alliance to their deaths, she wouldn’t have sent me down there in the first place.”

“And what makes you so certain that your presence would sway her decision?” Anduin asked. “You can’t expect me to believe that Sylvanas would make her decisions based on a single soldier.”

Anevay looked around the room. Tess and Lorna were watching her suspiciously, Genn was about ready to draw his pistol again. Jaina’s expression softened as realization seemed to dawn on her, and Silysa was stood beside her, nodding along with her. She knew what she was about to say would shock more than half the room.

“...Because I’m her lover,” Anevay said, turning her gaze back to Anduin.

Anduin’s eyes widened considerably at that. Tess and Lorna appeared to be utterly flabbergasted by Anevay’s statement. Silysa and Jaina said nothing, but their expressions were far from shocked. 

Genn, meanwhile, scoffed. “You expect us to believe that you’re romantically involved with that _thing_!?” he asked mockingly. “That is your ironclad defense.” 

“It’s true, Greymane,” Jaina said. “I saw them myself.” 

Everyone sans Anevay turned to balk at Jaina. 

“...You _saw_ them!?” Genn asked incredulously, his face turning slightly green. 

“On the Broken Shore,” she explained. “They were having a moment of reprieve together.”

Genn recoiled, while Tess and Lorna slowly turned to look at Anevay with a mixture of mortification and horror. 

“Yes, we were. Before Lady Proudmoore so rudely interrupted us,” Anevay huffed as she scowled at Jaina. “I am positive that Sylvanas wouldn’t have just abandoned me there to rot if she had truly intended to betray the Alliance. I saw the Val’kyr carrying off several Horde leaders. I believe the retreat was necessary.”

The reflexive shock of Anevay’s revelation waned as all eyes returned to Anduin. His expression pensive and tense as the information rolled over in his mind. 

“...Release her,” he said, “And give her a gryphon back to Orgrimmar.” 

“Anduin!” Genn balked. “You cannot be serious!” 

“My father did not call for this woman’s death, and nor will I,” Anduin explained firmly. “She is free to go.”

“Thank you, King Wrynn,” Anevay nodded as she snapped the shackles off her wrists with her bare hands. Such a brazen show of strength made it clear to everyone that she only came to the keep of her own accord and could have escaped whenever she wanted to. “I appreciate that.”

“Please don’t make me regret it,” Anduin beseeched before turning away. “Now, I must return to my chambers. I have… much to ponder.” 

“Of course, High King,” Silysa said, nodding in understanding before turning to Jaina. “I will escort Lady Darkflare to the Gryphon master.” 

“...Very well,” Jaina nodded, taking a moment longer to convey a hidden message to Silysa with her eyes.

Anevay followed Silysa out of the Keep, letting the kaldorei lead the way. She didn’t actually know the layout of Stormwind and couldn’t so much as point out the Gryphon Master let alone navigate to it. “Well, not the way I’d hoped to reveal my relationship, but I guess fate makes fools of us all.”

Silysa felt a wry grin forming on her lips. “Would outing my relationship to the Horde make you feel better?” she asked in jest.

“No, I’m just going to kiss Sylvanas in front of everyone,” Anevay smirked. “Power move of the century, honestly.”

Silysa laughed at that. “Fair enough. I guess if you’re going to reveal such a secret, it’s really go big or go home. I suppose in your case, it’s actually both.”

“Mmhmm,” Anevay nodded. “Just need to hope the Warchief doesn’t consider this worth a hundred lashes. Either way, it’ll be a fun time.”

* * *

As Sylvanas stepped off the ship, Vol’jin having been carried off on a stretcher, she rubbed her temples habitually. The assault had been a disaster, and her retreat had pretty much gotten the Alliance King killed. No doubt Greymane would attempt to pin this on her, and now she would have to fight the Alliance along with the Legion.

“Darkflare, do me a favor and fix me some tea,” she groaned, looking back toward Anevay.

Except Anevay wasn’t there. Only Velonara, Kalira and Nathanos.

“...Wait, where is Darkflare?” she asked, confusion steeped in her voice alongside a sliver of panic. 

The Dark Rangers took turns exchanging uncomfortable looks, not immediately answering the question. 

“...The last I saw her, she was fighting on the Alliance front,” Velonara said nervously, “...as you ordered.”

Sylvanas’ crimson eyes blew wide. Anevay was fighting alongside the Alliance. Did that mean…

“...But she pulled out when I gave the order,” Sylvanas said, alarm edging her voice. “She must have. My Val'kyr should have been able to collect her.” 

“They appeared to be occupied with recovering the other Horde leaders,” Nathanos said plainly. “It was our assumption you would have ordered her to withdraw telepathically.” 

Sylvanas was dangerously close to quaking in newfound horror. She did not, in fact, speak the orders to withdraw directly to Anevay’s mind. With the battle going as poorly as it was, it must have slipped her mind. How could something so important slip her mind like that!? “So… she didn’t retreat with us…?” she asked, those familiar with the Banshee Queen knowing that her voice was full of fear. 

The Dark Rangers suddenly looked panicked seeing the state Sylvanas was dangerously close to succumbing to. “S-She may still yet be alive, Dark Lady!” Kalira insisted, her tone urgent. “Darkflare has survived some of the most harrowing experiences Azeroth has ever known! Perhaps she found some place to remain hidden. Or she retreated with the Alliance.” 

Dread clutched at Sylvanas’ unbeaten hard more painfully. “...Oh no. The Alliance has Darkflare.”

Kalira winced and internally slapped herself. Of course that was the worst possible thing to say in this situation. The Alliance was highly likely to claim Sylvanas had betrayed them. If they had Anevay…

“I can have a search party out within the hour,” Nathanos suggested. “We still have several Shades in our employ that could serve as scouts.”

“Do it!” Sylvanas commanded. “We cannot afford to lose Darkflare! Under any circumstances! I want her location by nightfall!” 

Nathanos knew better than to argue the logistics of that command. Her reasoning was not based in logic. It was based on the non-negotiable need to ensure that someone she deeply cared for was alive and well. “At once, My Queen,” he said, bowing respectfully before turning to carry out his orders.

As Sylvanas continued to make her way into the city, panic had fully set in. Anevay was missing. Likely within the clutches of the Alliance. Likely within the clutches of _Greymane_ . She had to be found. She had to be safe. She _couldn’t_ lose her!

* * *

Anevay was exhausted. A full ten hours on the Gryphon after twelve more in battle had left her sleep deprived and wishing for a good rest. But she had to keep going. She needed to get back to Orgrimmar and meet up with everyone. She needed to see her Queen. She needed to know for certain if she’d been abandoned. Desperation and fear had started to set in the longer she flew, and she wasn’t certain whether or not that fear would be justified or not. It was possible that Sylvanas had left her there out of a calculated loss. That resources couldn’t be spared going after a single warrior on the field.

She hoped not.

That growing panic and distress was likely the only thing keeping her awake at this point. As weary and ragged as she was, she could not fathom taking a moment to rest until she knew for sure. If some force knocked her off of this gryphon and into the ocean below, she likely would have swam the rest of the way to Orgrimmar. She refused to let anything keep her from the truth. The sun began to set over the horizon making it difficult to see if she was drawing closer to Durotar or not. With any luck, the mountain would soon manage to get that infernal sun out of her eyes. After several hours, the sun had set completely and the mountains of Durotar were in view. And yet, Anevay could see a bright light down on the plains. As she drew closer, she saw it was a funeral pyre. But for who?

She landed on the shore and dismissed the Gryphon, walking up the shoreline and toward the crowd gathered outside the city. Her legs ached and her body screamed for rest, but she had to keep pushing forward. It was only when she was partially through the crowd that she saw Sylvanas standing on the platform by the burning body. She had her back to the crowd, the flames of the pyre casting a perfect silhouette of her over everyone. It made her that much of a welcomed sight for Anevay’s sore eyes. She managed to make it further through the dense crowd before Sylvanas turned around. Her burning crimson eyes cut through the darkness that enveloped her form. 

“Vol’jin is dead,” she said, her tone grave and almost somber. “Who among you… will help me avenge him?”

The crowd erupted in roars and war cries, both of mourning and of unity. Despite the anxiety coursing through her, it was a welcome sight. While she had personally loathed Vol'jin during his tenure as Warchief, she was forced to admit that he was exceptionally good at bringing the Horde back from the brink that Garrosh had taken them to. It was just a shame that 'treating their Champion better' had never been on his manifesto.

Anevay stepped forward out of the crowd and waved to get Sylvanas’ attention as she marched over to the stairwell. She didn’t want there to be any surprises. Sylvanas needed to see that she was coming for answers. Sylvanas’ eyes widened as she realized who it was approaching her. The stoic and poised disposition she presented before the still roaring crowd had all but vanished in the wake of Anevay’s presence. 

“Darkflare!” she called out, rushing to meet Anevay the rest of the way. “You’re alive!”

Anevay made it onto the platform and stood just a few feet from Sylvanas. The cheering and shouting had died down as they watched the Champion, who had been presumed missing in action or dead, stare down the new Warchief. “Did you abandon me on the Broken Shore?” she asked firmly. 

Sylvanas blinked with surprise. Of all the ways she had expected Anevay to greet her, that was not one of them. “What? No! Of course not!” she said, “I didn’t realize you weren’t with us until we reached Orgrimmar, I…” The defensive tone she had dawned swiftly ebbed, her entire posture growing weary. In the wake of Anevay’s stern, possibly hurt expression, she found it more difficult to retain her professional front. “...Forgive me, Champion. Everything was happening in a blur, I had forgotten you were with the Alliance front.”

Anevay’s firm, almost angry posture fell almost instantly and was replaced by unbearable relief. Sylvanas hadn’t abandoned her. She’d simply been overwhelmed by everything that had been happening. That knowledge made the exhaustion set in fully as her adrenaline and fear melted away. She immediately rushed forward and threw her arms around Sylvanas’ midsection, practically burying her face in the Dark Lady’s chest.

Sylvanas’ eyes widened again, taken aback by Anevay’s very brazen show of affection in front of the now silent and flabbergasted crowd. Her crimson gaze darted about, unsure what to look at or what to focus on. At least, she was unsure, until Anevay gave her undead body an affectionate squeeze, causing the warmth she naturally gave off to flood her system. Initial panic and confusion swiftly ebbed in place of utter relief and relaxation. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that they had a literal audience. It didn’t matter that the secret they were trying to safeguard may have just been blown wide open. All that mattered was that Anevay was here. Alive and safe. She returned the hug, her chin resting atop Anevay’s head as her eyes fluttered closed. She cut out all distractions. She needed this.

“I was so afraid that I could have been left behind,” Anevay whispered as she clung tighter to her. “I had to reveal so many things just so the Alliance wouldn’t execute me for Wrynn’s death. I just wanted so badly to come back and pray you didn’t leave me for dead…”

“Shhh,” Sylvanas hushed gently, deftly threading her fingers through Anevay’s auburn hair. “It’s okay. You did nothing wrong. The blame is mine. Forgive me.” 

“I forgive you,” Anevay said, lifting her head from Sylvanas’ chest and looking up at her. Her hands came up to rest on the back of her neck and she pulled her down into a desperate kiss.

The crowd collectively gasped at the sight. Some people chose to cheer, hooting and hollering in support, even if that support was simply for the spectacle. Sylvanas was only slightly surprised, thrown off by Anevay removing any shadow of a doubt regarding their actual relationship to all of the Horde. After the initial surprise faded, however, she melted into the kiss. Anevay mewled softly as she wrapped her arms fully around Sylvanas’ neck, clinging to her with a growing desperation and no longer caring about the decidedly mixed response from the crowd. The crowd didn’t matter. She’d fight the crowd herself if they wanted to try her.

“I love you,” she whined against Sylvanas’ lips.

Sylvanas felt a fluttering feeling grow in her chest, mentally damning the Horde and what they thought about this thrice over. 

“I love you too,” she crooned back before pressing forward for another heated kiss.

Anevay practically started crying as she clung to Sylvanas, letting her chill completely overtake her as she relished in the roughness of her lips. At first it had been a strange sensation, all those months ago before she left for Draenor. But now she took such a great deal of comfort in how rough Sylvanas’ skin was. She thought better than to voice such a thing, lest she upset Sylvanas over her own insecurities. It was more satisfying to show how greatly she appreciated her lover’s touch rather than speaking it. The kiss deepened and lingered, a gentle moan rumbling up Sylvanas’ throat and through Anevay’s very being as they savored the taste of each other. They didn’t falter, even when Nathanos awkwardly cleared his throat beside them. 

“My Queen? Perhaps the two of you should seek a moment of privacy?”

The two broke apart long enough for Sylvanas to mutter “I think that ship has pretty much sailed.”

“Perhaps, but some might argue doing this before Vol’jin’s burning corpse might be disrespectful,” Nathanos clarified.

“Take it off!” one orc warrior called out. 

“...And some might choose to be crass about it,” Nathanos amended.

“I still have a knife on me!” Anevay snapped at the orc. “Kinda…”

Nevertheless, the two pulled away from each other, the moment completely spoiled after that outburst. Anevay rubbed her eyes and groaned as she desperately needed a rest. Even her legs were in danger of giving out underneath her.

“There is one other thing,” Sylvanas nodded. “I believe I have a promise to uphold.”

“What do you mean, my Queen?” Anevay asked, yawning as they descended the platform.

“You recall the night that I first entered your chambers back in the Undercity?” she asked. “That if I were to ever be named as Warchief, you would serve as my High Overlord?”

Anevay nodded. 

“Well, would you like to guess what Vol’jin’s final decree was?”

Anevay’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “No…”

“Trust me, I was just as shocked as you are,” Sylvanas said with a huff of laughter. 

Anevay was positively speechless for a moment. “...So… that means I’m-”

“ _Tomorrow,_ ” Sylvanas stressed, placing a hand on Anevay’s shoulder. “Tonight, you are going to get some rest. I can’t have you begin your reign as High Overlord already on the verge of collapse.”

Anevay sighed and nodded. “Yes, my Queen,” she said, leaning against Sylvanas and feeling more exhausted than she ever had in her life. Perhaps it was the emotional stress alongside the physical, but she was so happy that sleep was so near.


	4. Get That Wind Chime in Stasis

**11 Months Later**

The time had come to take the fight to the Legion. No more would they sit idly by, waiting for them to launch another invasion, slowly whittling them down until nobody remained to defend Azeroth. No. They would invade Argus, the heart of the Burning Legion’s war machine, and strike at their very core.  The commanders of what would be the initial push into Argus stood on the docks at the Azuremyst Isle along with their respective faction leaders. Lady Liadrin was conversing with Aethas Sunreaver, while Anevay and Silysa were saying goodbye to their respective lovers. Silysa doing so with far more subterfuge than Anevay.

“I promise I’ll come back,” Anevay said, running a hand down Sylvanas’ cheek. She wanted to imprint the memory of how cold she was into her mind. She could be gone a month, six, she didn't know. “And it won’t take me a year this time.”

“I’m willing to trust you on that,” Sylvanas said, leaning slightly into Anevay’s hand before leaving a delicate, cold kiss onto her palm. “Do not break my trust, warrior.”

“I promise, I won’t,” Anevay smiled warmly. “And when I do come back, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Sylvanas cocked an eyebrow. “And what would that be?”

Anevay shook her head. “It’s a surprise.”

Sylvanas blinked with confusion before shooting Anevay a deadpan expression. “So I’m to wait for an uncertain amount of time for you to return from another world to put an end to an interplanetary threat… all for one surprise?” she asked incredulously. 

Anevay nodded cheekily. 

“...You damn well better make it worth the wait.”

Anevay winked before she pulled Sylvanas in for a loving and passionate kiss. The kind she only gave when she knew she was going to be apart from her Queen for far longer than she would have liked. The rest of the Horde officers pointedly looked away once she did.  Sylvanas melted into the kiss, her arms coiling around Anevay’s waist as she pressed the blood elf as close to her body as possible. She wanted to etch the feeling of this kiss, this embrace, into her memory forever. She needed to hold onto this memory for every day Anevay was gone.  Especially since she might not come ba- 

No. Sylvanas forced that sort of negative thinking from her mind. It would not do for either of them to be so pessimistic about this. No matter how likely an outcome it was. 

After what seemed like an eternity while still being nowhere near long enough, their lips parted and they looked at each other with utter adoration in their eyes.  _ “O Surfal’Ana,” _ Sylvanas whispered affectionately.

“I love you too,” Anevay whispered back, pulling away from her. “Don’t miss me too much.”

She turned away from Sylvanas and rejoined the others. Aethas rolled his eyes while Liadrin smiled at her. The three of them joined the Alliance and the Legionfall as they marched into the Exodar. Velen had spoken about a ship to take them to Argus, and organized for them all to meet within the city. Tensions were high, the Alliance still blamed the Horde for the loss of King Varian, but the Prophets guards made it clear to them as they entered that hostilities would not be tolerated on the Vindicaar.

Silysa made her way through the ranks to Anevay’s side and smiled at her. “So, how’d the goodbyes go?” she asked.

“Pretty good,” Anevay nodded. “How about you?”

“I’d say pretty good too. Jaina actually did something pretty bold,” Silysa giggled.

“What was that? Freeze your feet to the ground?” Anevay snickered.

“Better,” Silysa said, holding up her left hand to show Anevay a ring glinting in the light.

Anevay’s eyes widened. “You're kidding me!”

Silysa was grinning ear to ear as she looked at the ring. “She said we’re going to go through with it the moment I get back. I found no reason to disagree. What better way to celebrate the ultimate defeat of the Legion than with my wife?”

“Good for you!” Anevay exclaimed, clapping Silysa on the shoulder. “Is Jaina ready to come out with it, or are you going to be married in secret?”

“I imagine that it’s going to be a private ceremony,” Silysa said, finding it very difficult to take her eyes off of the band that gently thrummed with magic against her finger. “We both want to wait and see how the aftermath of this whole thing will play out before we go public.” 

“That’s understandable,” Anevay smiled, bringing Silysa into a one-armed hug. “I decided to wait until I got back before I asked Sylvanas.”

“Awww, that’s sweet,” Silysa cooed, giving Anevay a gentle, affectionate shoulder check. “I can see why you would wait. Lady Sylvanas doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d want to get led on like that. Better to ask her after we get back.” 

Anevay nodded. “Yeah, never a good idea to give Sylvanas false hope. It only makes her more miserable. I’m so happy for you, though!”

“Thanks,” Silysa smiled. “I’m happy for you both as well. If any one of us deserves happiness, it’s you.” 

“Thanks, Silysa,” Anevay grinned. “C’mon, let’s kill some demons.”

* * *

Anevay and Illidan rushed forward into the fallen crevice, hauling boulders off the group of soldiers they had fallen onto. The Xenedar had been shot down the moment it appeared in the skies of Argus, and the Legionfall had to hurry to fortify their positions and look for survivors. Anevay and Illidan had taken point on the search, being able to hand small armies on their own and conserve their forces. The entire planet was practically crawling with demons, making any push by regular forces difficult.  As they dug through the rubble, they pulled out Draenei with glowing, golden tattoos across their bodies. They all thanked them, flinching at the sight of Illidan, before limping off to the medic. This must have been the Army of the Light Velen had spoken about. Lightforged mortals in service of a Prime Naaru. Something about them rubbed Anevay the wrong way as they pulled them out. She wasn't certain, but she had an intense feeling of 'danger.'  


The last one was surprisingly unharmed. A human in bright, golden armor. Anevay hauled him out by the pauldron and brought him to his feet, surprised to see a human out here.  “Are you alright?” she asked. “That was a lot of rubble, and with the Xenedar crashing… are you good?”

“I am fine, stranger. Thank you,” the human said with a slight smile. “When the Light is your shield, nothing can truly harm you.” 

Illidan scoffed. “The Light did little to save your vessel, Paladin,” he said snidely. 

The human looked up to the Demon Hunter, his eyes flashing bright gold as he reached for the hilt of his warblade. “You dare taint the sanctity of this place with your stench, demon!?”

“Hey!” Anevay said, stepping between Illidan and the human. “Okay first of all, we’re not your enemies. We came here on the Vindicaar. Second of all, Illidan, don’t antagonize the Paladin. Not when we’re still in artillery range!”

Illidan looked at Anevay incredulously. “You’re defending this Light obsessed fool?” he balked. 

“I’m keeping the situation from escalating,” Anevay said firmly before looking back at the Paladin. “Okay, here’s the thing. We’re part of an organized group from Azeroth tasked with taking the Legion down for good. If you come with us, we can pool our resources together and fight side by side. Sound good?” 

The paladin looked warily between Illidan and Anevay, suddenly realizing that the latter also had Fel burning behind her eyes. His expression was pensive and skeptical before her eventually eased the grip on his blade.  “...Very well,” he conceded. “Any enemy of the Legion is an ally to the Lightforged,” he said. “I am High Exarch Turalyon, and I thank you for the rescue.” 

“Turalyon… Turalyon… where do I know that-” Anevay snapped her fingers. Then suddenly it dawned on her. Turalyon was the Paladin that Alleria had met during the Second War. The two had slept together one night in grief, which had caused Alleria to become pregnant. “Oh right! You’re Arator’s father, aren’t you?”

Turalyons’ eyes widened. “You know my son!?” He stepped forward, his face alit. “How is he? Is… is he with you!?”

“I think so. He’s with the Alliance, so I don’t know for sure,” Anevay said, gesturing toward the arcane teleporters just up the hill. “The Alliance's commander is Silysa Bladewing, I'd had to ask her for certain. But he's part of the Silver Hand, so he's got to be here from what I recall.”

A smile spread across Turalyon’s grizzled face as he stepped passed the both of them and looked towards the teleporters. “Then we best make haste. It would be dangerous to linger here for long.”

Anevay and Illidan nodded to each other and led Turalyon up the path. 

“So tell me, has Khadgar arrived with the Alliance?” the Paladin asked as they ascended. He had sent out Light's Heart to rally the Alliance to Argus and bring the Demon Hunter that Xe'ra wanted so badly. To think that such a gambit had actually worked...  


“And then some,” Illidan remarked.

“The main bulk of our forces are the Armies of Legionfall. A coalition of different organizations across Azeroth,” Anevay explained. “Khadgar commands the Legionfall forces. A kaldorei named Silysa Bladewing commands the Alliance, Illidan commands the Illidari, and I command the Horde.”

Turalyon stopped dead in his tracks. Slowly he turned to look back at Anevay, his brow furrowed and his eyes wided. “...The Horde?” he asked. “As in the Orcish Horde?”

“Technically, though there’s more than just Orcs in the Horde now,” Anevay explained. “You’ve been gone a long time, Turalyon. Things have changed in the last twenty-five years.”

“Twenty five?” Turalyon’s look of confusion only deepened. “...I haven’t set foot on Azeroth for a millennium at least!” 

“Time behaves differently in the Twisting Nether, Paladin,” Illidan commented. “A day in Azeroth can be a decade in the realm between realms.” 

“On Azeroth, it’s been twenty five years since the Second War,” Anevay said, laying a hand on Turalyon’s shoulder. “A lot has changed, and it would take years to go through it all. Suffice to say, the Alliance and the Horde are in a tenuous peace right now. So you may see Orcs on the Vindicaar. Are you going to be able to handle that?”

Turalyon’s jaw clenched. Though the centuries have all but flown by for him, he held his life on Azeroth close to his heart. His memories of the Horde’s monstrous first invasion was still fresh in his mind. He recalled the sight of Orgrim Doomhammer slaying Lothar as if it were only yesterday. He could still see the orcish blood he spilt on Draenor when pursuing Ner’zhul.  And now he was being asked to fight alongside those brutes. Those agents of the Burning Legion.

“...It’s as I said,” he responded tenuously. “Any enemy of the Legion is an ally of the Lightforged.”

There was a tense, awkward silence as they continued to walk. Illidan looked at Anevay, silently asking for an explanation. Anevay waved him down, indicating she’d explain later.

“What is your name, miss?” Turalyon asked, glancing at her.

“Anevay Darkflare,” Anevay explained.

Turalyon’s eyes widened. “Oh wait… I know that name,” he said, tapping his chin in contemplation. “You were that wayward girl that Alleria's sister adopted, weren’t you?”

Anevay pursed her lips at that. ‘Adopted’ was probably not the best word to describe that given the circumstances. “Uh… yeah, that’d be me,” she said sheepishly. It had suddenly dawned on her that, if all went well, she and Turalyon would technically be in laws and she wasn’t sure how prepared she was to explain that to him on top of, well, everything else.

She blinked, another realization coming to her.  “Oh, wait!” She exclaimed, suddenly spinning back around to look at Turalyon. “Alleria! Is she with you guys! We didn’t see her!” 

Turalyon flinched, the color draining from his face. “I… that’s… a long story,” he said, shaking his head. “And I’m afraid I do not have the time to tell it.” 

Anevay raised an eyebrow at the Paladin. “Huh… well, we’re organizing a search party to get survivors out of the Xenedar. Maybe we’ll find her there. Oh! And Velen promised we’d get your wind chime as well.”

Turalyon arched a brow. “...You mean Xe’ra?” he asked. 

“Unfortunately,” Illidan sighed. “Now are we all done catching up? If so, then I suggest that we hurry.” 

* * *

Anevay stepped into the main bridge of the Xenedar with Silysa and Khadgar in tow. There, in the middle of the central platform, was the floating shards of a Naaru without it’s core. Exactly where Turalyon had said she would be. As Anevay drew closer to the listless fragments, the intense Light it gave off burned slightly. Anevay didn't much enjoy contact with the Light, having not attuned to the Sunwell and continuing to feed off Fel crystals to saite her magic addiction. She was still too disillusioned by it's betrayal after the Fall of Silvermoon. Since then, she had actively made the decision to seek out the embrace of Undeath over the Light. The naaru's intense energy practically made her want to recoil.  


And yet… there was also something cold permeating the room as well.

“I think this is Xe’ra,” she said. “Velen will be happy about that, at least.”

“Is she intact?” Silysa inquired, narrowing her eyes at the amorphous being. “It looks like she has… pieces missing.” 

“The core is on the ship,” Anevay explained as Khadgar beckoned the mages in. “It was sent to carry a message. Xe’ra showed me visions of Illidan’s past, but something about her rubbed me the wrong way, honestly. Do me a favor and put stasis crystals around her before you revive her.”

“Stasis crystals?” Silysa asked with an arched brow. “Are you sure that’s necessary?” 

“Naaru have an agenda that they stick to above anything else,” Anevay explained as she looked around the bridge. “It’s better to play it safe. I don't want to have to fight a Naaru AND Sargeras.” 

Silysa appeared pensive for a moment before nodding. “Alright. Stasis crystals. Got it.” 

“My mages and I can teleport her aboard the Vindicaar once we have all of the other survivors accounted for,” Khadgar said as he looked up at the central platform. 

“Good, make sure she’s secure and wait for-” Anevay trailed off as she felt the chill in the air grow more intense. The more she wandered, the more it was clear that there was a different kind of presence in the room. “...Does anyone else feel that?”

Silysa looked up, her brow furrowed in confusion as she glanced around Anevay. “Uh… no? What is it?”

“It’s like… something dark and cold,” Anevay explained, glancing around to wherever she felt the chilling sensation flare up. “It feels like it’s drawing me in. Trying to consume me. I felt this before around the Old Gods. But why would there be Void magic in a Lightforged ship?”

Silysa tensed, instinctively drawing her warblade. “Well, whatever the reason, we cannot take chances. Demons are bad enough. I don’t want to be dealing with Void beasts on top of that.” 

The Kaldorei looked at all the warriors and mages still on the bridge. “Everyone searches the ship in pairs. We can’t have whatever is on this ship picking us off one by one.” 

“No… no wait,” Anevay said, running her hand along the wall and feeling the magical presence strengthen. It felt like an endless, crushing darkness. It was silent, and at the same time she could feel anguish at it’s very core. It felt like the black void of space closing in on her. Surrounding her. Trapping her. As her fingers trailed over the wall, they caught on a small separation. 

A secret door! 

“It’s here!” she exclaimed. “There’s a room behind this wall. And someone’s inside!”

“The Void creature?” Silysa asked, clutching her weapon tightly as she looked nervously at the wall. “Do you think it’s strong enough to break through?”

“This door is extremely thick and highly reinforced,” Anevay said, inspecting the metalwork. Sylvanas had taught her all the subtle nuances of architecture to better plan city assaults. “I can count… twenty different locks keeping it closed. No Void beast could break through this.”

“I shudder to think what kind of creature would require such confinement,” Khadgar saidas he looked upon the secret door. “And yet I wonder why none of the Lightforged warned us about such a thing.”

“It means they didn’t want us to know what was behind here,” Anevay frowned.  She dug her fingers into the divide and hooked them into the door. With a deep breath, she pulled hard. Being an elf, Anevay was considerably strong. But even by elven standards her strength was surprising. During the war in Pandaria, she’d actually lifted a massive bell off of the Stormwind Prince, much to the astonishment of Garrosh.  That strength was once again on display as the thick door curved against its own locks, audibly creaking and straining.

“Anevay, what are you doing!?” Silysa balked, reaching out to grab the Blood Elf’s arm to still her movements. “You cannot seriously be trying to let this thing out, are you!?”

“Whatever is in here was imprisoned instead of destroyed,” Anevay groaned as she pulled harder. “The Lightforged didn’t want us to find it, which means I  _ want  _ to find it!” She let out a guttural scream as she wrenched her arms back, and the door’s bolts snapped with a loud, echoing bang. The massive door flew open, the metal warped and buckled where Anevay had pulled it.

Silysa and Khadgar winced at the sudden violent action, steeling themselves for what was about to crawl out of that secret room screaming with the intensity of a thousand nightmares. 

A moment passed. 

Nothing came out of the room. S ilysa narrowed her eyes, trying to peer into the darkness of the chamber beyond what the corridor could illuminate.  Anevay drew her warblade and took a tentative step inside. The entire room was filled with inky, black smoke along the floor. It felt like she was wading through the Endless Dark itself. She stepped in further, and felt her boot connect with something. Looking down, she could vaguely make out a silhouette lying on the floor.

She stooped down and set her warblade on the floor, running her hands over the prone creature. It was only when her fingers touched decidedly elven ears that she finally dared to pull it out of the smoke. It was a weak, barely conscious, elven woman. Her skin was sallow and her eyes had thick, dark circles under them. It looked like she’d been in here for a while. Taking a glance at her fingers, she winced when she saw they were bloody. She’d apparently tried to claw her way out.  She almost vocally asked who this was, when her fingers ran over a small, green necklace around her neck. A necklace she had seen before, in a different color.

“ _Anar’alah!_ ” she exclaimed. “It’s Captain Windrunner!”

“What!?” Khadgar eyes shot wide as he crossed the threshold into the cell, a ball of magelight forming at the top of his staff as he traversed deeper. 

The sudden encroaching light caused the elf on the floor to wince slightly, curling away from it with what little strength she had left. 

“She’s in terrible shape,” Anevay said, bracing Alleria in her arms as she continued to look her over. “She’s practically crawling with Void energy. What the hell did these wretches do to her?!”

“By the stars!” Khadgar gasped, suddenly getting a good look at how weak and frail his old friend appeared just now. “Why was she…? They had to have known!” 

“Well whatever the reason, we’re getting her out of here,” Anevay said firmly, pulling a horn off her belt and blowing into it. The sound of it reverberated off the walls and made Khadgar clap his hands over his ears. As Anevay put the horn back onto her belt, a pale blue Val’kyr materialized in the chamber.

“Signe, please take this woman to the Vindicaar,” Anevay urged her as Signe landed to inspect the woman Anevay had found. “She’s crawling with the Void and seems to be malnourished.”

“Understood, Lady Darkflare,” Signe nodded, gently scooping the weary woman into her hands before flapping her mighty wings and flying out of the chamber. 

Silysa, who was still outside the room, watched as the Val’kyr departed with Alleria. “...So was that really Alleria Windrunner?” she asked. “Like from the memorial outside Stormwind?”

“Indeed,” Khadgar confirmed. “A mighty warrior of the Alliance and a dear friend. Only, I do not know what has happened to her since last we met.” 

“Well I know a Paladin who’s going to tell me,” Anevay glared as she stood up. “Get the survivors moving, and get that wind chime in stasis! I don’t want that thing to so much as touch someone’s heart until I know exactly what happened here!”


	5. I’m Your Sister’s Girlfriend

Alleria had been brought onto the Vindicaar without either Velen or Turalyon being notified. She’d been taken to a private room in the infirmary and placed under heavy guard by the Illidari, who graciously volunteered their resistance to the Light  _ and  _ the Void to keep the captain protected. The only person Anevay had told was Vereesa, using Silysa to deliver the message. She’d been avoiding a confrontation with Vereesa since she broke Sylvanas’ heart, but now she was likely going to  _ have  _ to have that confrontation.

Apothecaries were looking over Alleria, at least until she became lucid and screamed at the fact that Undead were tending to her wounds. Since then she’d been left with her non-fatal injuries untended until Anevay could speak to her.  Speaking of confrontations she didn’t want to have…

Anevay dismissed the demon hunters standing guard and stepped into the small room, where Alleria was sat up on her bed. Vereesa was sitting beside the bed, consoling her sister.

“Captain Alleria,” she nodded, sitting on the opposite side of her. “How are you feeling?”

Alleria looked up at Anevay, her eyes narrowing on the approaching blood elf. “I… I know you,” she whispered, her throat still hoarse from bouts of screaming followed by long gaps of misuse. “...You were in the chamber… you let me out.” 

Anevay nodded, fiddling with the edges of her tabard. It was times like this she was grateful she had swapped out her Horde tabard for a Forsaken tabard years ago. “Yes, that was me. I’m Anevay Darkflare. I’m your sister’s girlfriend.”

Alleria blinked, slowly turning her gaze back to Vereesa. 

“Not me!” Vereesa exclaimed, shaking her head. Her eyes suddenly widened as turned to look incredulously at Anevay. “Wait! That means-”

Anevay nodded. 

“You and Sylvanas!?” 

“I’m so glad you’re quick on the update, Vereesa,” Anevay said venomously before turning her gaze back to Alleria. “I’m here with Khadgar’s Legionfall forces. He was with me when I pulled you out of there.”

“Khadgar?” Alleria tried to sit up before wincing and nearly doubling over as a result. “...And… Sylvanas? Is she here too?”

“No, she’s back on Azeroth,” Vereesa explained, suddenly doing everything she could not to meet Anevay’s eyes. 

“She’s extremely busy,” Anevay explained. “A lot has changed since you left, and I think I should keep the more drastic changes from you for a while. Give you time to adjust. What I need to know is how you ended up in that prison cell?”

Alleria looked down at her lap, where her hands laid almost limp and useless. Her throat tightened as the time she spent trapped, helpless in the dark, returned to the forefront of her mind.  “...They said it was for my own good,” she said, her voice barely above a whimper. “I cried out to be released… to not be alone with the voices… but they ignored me.”

Tears began flowing freely down Alleria’s face as she broke down crying. Vereesa was quick to carefully pull her eldest sister in her arms and try to console her.  Anevay frowned. Solitary confinement was a gruesome punishment that, sadly, the Alliance still employed. She stood up and signalled for someone from outside the room, and one of the Dark Rangers entered.

“Yes, High Overlord?”

“I want round-the-clock guards on this room. Absolutely nobody from the Army of the Light is to be allowed to enter. Only Khadgar, Vereesa, Arator and myself. Work with the Illidari if you can, but otherwise I want ten Dark Rangers on that door at all times. Understood?”

“Understood, High Overlord,” the Dark Ranger said with a salute, “It shall be done.” The Tal’dorei turned on her heel and stepped back out of the room to inform the others about their new assignments.

Alleria raised an eyebrow as she watched the Dark Ranger depart. “...What was that creature?”

Anevay raised an eyebrow of her own as she glanced at her. “That was an elf, Captain Alleria.”

Alleria narrowed her eyes. “That was not like any elf I’ve ever seen,” she said, her voice as firm as it could be despite how hoarse and cracked her throat was.

“That’s because she’s undead,” Anevay explained, with all the air of someone describing the weather. 

Alleria’s eyes widened, her entire expression appearing positively haunted as she remained silent for a time. Vereesa appeared to be confused and worried by the reaction and the subsequent quiet. Neither she, nor Anevay could hear the whispers that were suddenly swarming Alleria’s mind. 

“Don’t get worked up, Lady Sun,” Vereesa said, trying to coax her back down into her cot. “You’re still very weak. You need time to rest.”

“The undead in our armies are friendly, Captain Alleria,” Anevay assured her. “And I can assure you they will protect  _ you  _ in particular with their unlives.”

Alleria seemed to wince, the whispers only growing bolder. “...Why?” she asked aloud, trying to discern the call of the voice from the voices of those around her. “...Why would they do that?” 

“Many of them served alongside you in the Farstriders,” Anevay explained. 

Alleria’s eyes widened at that. “...What?”

“Darkflare, that’s too much, too soon,” Vereesa protested. “She needs time.” 

Anevay turned a nasty, vindictive glare toward Vereesa. “Don’t look at me! She’s the one who asked rather than trust the woman who saved her life. Watch how you speak to me, traitorous witch!” She snapped.

Vereesa was taken aback, by Anevay’s sudden wrathful tone all the while Alleria just looked at the both of them with utter confusion. 

“W-What happened to the Farstriders?” Alleria asked, a growing sense of panic welling in her chest that was not helped by the voices. “What happened to Quel’Thalas?”

There was a tense silence as Vereesa and Anevay stared at each other, Anevay practically glaring daggers, before finally she spoke.

“Okay, I’ll tell you,” Anevay said, cracking her knuckles. “Fifteen years ago, the Alliance turned on us. Lordaeron’s prince took an army of the Undead into Quel’Thalas, slaughtered the vast majority of our people, and corrupted the Sunwell. Your sister was among them. Most of the fallen were raised into Undeath, and later broke free of the prince’s control. We eventually retook Quel’Thalas and began to rebuild with the aid of our now-undead kin.”

Alleria appeared utterly shocked by the information Anevay more or less dumped onto her. 

“Darkflare, that is intentionally misleading!” Vereesa protested, rising back to her feet from Alleria’s bedside. “The Alliance didn’t betray Quel’Thalas! Prince Menethil went rogue and joined the Scourge!”

“Oh you’re right! I forgot the part about the Grand Marshal who tried to hasten our extinction, as well as you going through Dalaran and slaughtering your own people,” Anevay folded her arms. “So that’s the Lordaeron Prince, Grand Marshal Garithos, and your baby sister. So when you return home to Quel’Thalas, you’ll see a  _ lot  _ fewer people there. Now, did I leave anything else out, Vereesa?”

A dense knit formed in Vereesa’s brow. “You left out the-”

“ **_QUIET!_ ** ” Alleria shouted, her hands balled into fists and fiercely tugging at her own hair. Both elves turned to look at her appearing to be in the midst of a panic and… seeping with Void energy. “...Too loud… need to…”

Anevay sighed, turning a final glare to Vereesa. “I need to go start my report to the Warchief. Don’t cause too much trouble,” she said turning on her heel and storming from the room. She slammed the door behind her with so much force that the frame actually cracked.

The Dark Rangers that were already stationed beside the door suddenly winced with surprise at how forcefully Anevay left the room.  “...High Overlord?” one asked. “Is everything alright?”

“I don’t much care for the Dark Lady’s younger sister,” Anevay said tersely as she adjusted her bracers. “And now I’m stuck in the twisting nether with every Windrunner sister  _ except  _ the one I want to be stuck here with. No, everything is  _ not _ alright.”

The Dark Rangers gave each other wary looks. “...Are you rescinding our orders to guard this spot, then?”

“...No,” Anevay shook her head. “But if you hear Vereesa start to poison the Captain’s head with nonsense about the Dark Lady, intervene immediately and escort her out. Now that I’ve found her, I’m determined to bring her back to Sylvanas in an unbiased state.”

“Oh, well then absolutely, High Overlord,” the Tal’dorei said with a nod and an approving smile. Her pale ear flicked as she focused her attention to what was being said on the other side of the door. “In fact, I believe I hear such a thing right now.” 

“Oh no,” Anevay rolled her eyes. “Get her out of there. And bring Arator in her stead. I’m sure the Captain will enjoy being reunited with her son.”

“Of course,” she said, turning to her fellow Ranger who joined her as they both stepped into the room. 

Anevay could hear Vereesa beginning to protest before a strangled noise from Alleria gave her the cue that this entire exchange was only making her eldest sister upset. After a moment, the Rangers stepped back out with Vereesa reluctantly in tow. 

The Quel’dorei flashed her a heated glare. “She’s not back in our lives for a day and you’re already seeking to influence her while she’s vulnerable?!” she demanded.

Anevay reached forward and grabbed her by the scruff of her cloak, yanking her toward the infirmary door. “Walk,  _ Little Moon _ . You and I are going to have a chat,” she growled.

Vereesa grunted indignantly as she tried to fight against Anevay’s grip. Alas, the Blood Elf was still stronger. Anevay hauled her out of the infirmary and down toward the hold. She shut the door behind her and shoved Vereesa into a wall, standing almost nose to nose with her.

“Let’s make something clear, here,” she said venomously, jabbing Vereesa’s sternum with her finger. “I intend to bring Alleria back to her sister with an open and unbiased mind regarding her, and  _ you  _ are not going to interfere with that. Got it?!”

Vereesa balked. “Unbiased!? You’re the one dictating who can or cannot see her! I think that sort of decision should be left up to her  _ actual _ family, thank you.” 

“Vereesa, have you forgotten who my Queen and Warchief is? Or who the Dark Rangers actually answer to?” Anevay folded her arms, cocking her eyebrow and suppressing the urge to punch the youngest Windrunner. “So long as I command the Horde’s forces on this campaign, my word is Sylvanas’ word. So do you want to try that again?”

“And how do I know that you aren’t just trying to secure another ‘asset’ for your Warchief?” Vereesa challenged. “If your word is her word, what proof do I have that she still cares about Alleria at all?”

“Well if you’d bothered to so much as speak to her in the last two and a half years, maybe you’d be able to be certain of that,” Anevay spat, shoving Vereesa back against the wall. “Until then, she was already betrayed and abandoned by one sister, I’m not going to let it happen with the other!”

Vereesa appeared equal parts befuddled and livid. She felt the urge to shoot back with something scathing, but the intensity in Anevay’s eyes made it hard to muster a single thought to speak. More to the point, she wasn’t uncertain that Anevay wouldn’t try to kill her for whatever retort she gave regardless of the agreement for peace aboard the ship. 

“...Make sure nothing hurts her until then,” Vereesa said, trying to sound firm.

“Well I’m already good at that,” Anevay said, turning away from her and heading for the door. She stopped and turned back to look at Vereesa. “You hurt someone that I love very much, Vereesa. I won’t let you do it again.”

Vereesa’s lips pursed into a thin line. She didn’t have a response to that. Anything she could try to say in her defense would just come off as an excuse or a lie to Anevay. She had no recourse than to just turn around and walk the other way. They had more important matters to deal with than this. 

And yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that she had just lost something. 

* * *

“Lady Darkflare?” came the voice of Turalyon as Anevay was coordinating with Illidan on troop placement. “I need a word.”

“Is this important?” Anevay asked, looking up from the map and shaking her head at Illidan. Her patience for the Lightforged had completely evaporated in only a day as they interfered with operations, harassed the rest of the Legionfall, and loudly prostyletized in the middle of the bridge at all hours of the day. “I’m in the middle of coordinating an assault.”

“I’ve been hearing word around the ship that you pulled my wife from the rubble of the Xenedar. Why wasn’t I informed?” Turalyon asked, irritation rising in his voice.

Anevay rolled her eyes and moved a few more pieces on the map. “There, that should do it,” she said before turning around. “Alleria gave me information that I found quite troubling. I’ve put her under Horde protection with strict orders to not allow anyone from the Army of the Light to enter her room. You’ll be informed once I’ve concluded my investigation.”

“Darkflare, we had Alleria contained on the Xenedar for a reason!” Turalyon huffed. “Where you have her right now makes her a danger to herself and everyone aboard this vessel! You had no right to keep this from me!” 

“Danger to herself and everyone? How? Because so far I’ve only been able to find that she’s infused with Void magic,” Anevay folded her arms. “Was there something I missed?”

“Darkflare, do you not understand how dangerous the Void is!?” Turalyon barked. “The power of the Old Gods is the most dangerous force known to creation! Even deadlier than the Legion! If we let Alleria go, she would have become a deadly agent of the Void. The only other option was to purge her soul from her body!”

“Turalyon, there are Shadow Priests working on this very ship right now!” Anevay glared at the Paladin, already done with his attitude. “I’ve slain three Old Gods myself! Alleria’s not even a threat. She’s barely a concern. Besides, there are better ways to remove the Void from her than destroying her entire being if it was really necessary. Why don’t you sit down and let the professionals work?”

“Do not presume to understand more than the Naaru, girl!” Turalyon snarled. “If you choose to accept the void into our ranks, you do so at everyone’s peril!”

“Hmm… Paladin… slave to a higher power… tortures a Windrunner… why am I getting the weirdest sense of deja vu?” Anevay pondered aloud. Illidan snickered at that remark.  


“Mark my words, girl. When King Terenas hears about this-”

“King Terenas is dead,” Anevay said matter-of-factly.

Turalyon’s eyes widened, surprised by the revelation Anevay just unleashed upon him. Terenas Menethil, his King, was dead? On reflection that made some sense. It had been twenty five years on Azeroth, and he was already very old. Well that must mean… 

“Fine, apologies,” Turalyon said snidely. “When his son King  _ Arthas _ hears about this-”

“Arthas is dead too, Turalyon,” Anevay said, inspecting her fingernails.

“What the hell!?” Turalyon balked. “Is there anyone from Lordaeron who is still alive!?”

“A lot of people, actually,” Anevay shrugged.

“Well who rules Lordaeron then?!” Turalyon demanded. “Who is my King now?!”

“Sylvanas Windrunner,” Anevay said, looking bored as she glanced around the ship.

Turalyon blinked with surprise. “What? How?” he asked, sounding more bewildered by the second. “Who did she marry for the throne?”

“Nobody. She took control of an empty throne,” Anevay said. Behind her, she could hear Illidan chuckle. “The monarchy you served died with Arthas.”

“Then what happened to the Kingdom!?” Turalyon pressed, becoming tired of Anevay stringing him along the way she was. “How did a Ranger General of Quel’Thalas seize control of the human Kingdom of Lordaeron?”

“Arthas went nuts, killed everyone and raised them into undeath,” Anevay deadpanned, glancing back to see Illidan continuing to chuckle. “Sylvanas broke the undead free and reclaimed Lordaeron. They now call themselves Forsaken. This crying mask on my chest is their crest.”

Anger and confusion soon gave way to abject horror as Turalyon took an instinctive step back from Anevay. “So… so you-?” he looked Anevay up and down, appearing to be at a complete lost for words. “...You cannot be undead! I’ve not seen an undead as lifelike as you!”

“Sylvanas allowed me to join the Forsaken when I had nowhere else to go,” Anevay folded her arms, tilting her head at the Paladin. “I’ve quickly become her most trusted champion, and I’ve earned the trust of the Forsaken. A year and a half ago, I became Sylvanas’ lover.”

Turalyon’s face went pale. He looked as though he were about to throw up. 

Then he did. 

The High Exarch leaned hard against the nearby wall before releasing what little he recently had to eat, some mana rolls that Khadgar conjured, onto the corridor floor.

“Classy,” Anevay said. “The point is, you can’t threaten me with the wrath of Lordaeron when I’m one of the Queen’s most trusted companions. You have no power here, Turalyon. Not even your precious Light can change that. I’ve squashed bigger bugs than you, so you can either fall in line or test my patience. And given that I can completely overpower you with just a few words, I wouldn’t try testing my patience if I were you.”

Turalyon dry heaved for a moment longer before turning his head to glower at Anevay. Wiping his mouth, still coated with acidic sick, he did his best to look imposingly at her. “Tread carefully, Darkflare,” he croaked out. “We may be allies now, but the Light will remember all threats to it. If you continue acting like this you will face judgement same as our common enemy.”

Anevay smirked and pulled off her left gauntlet. As the leather and steel clattered to the floor, Anevay held up her scarred, withered hand before Turalyon’s eyes. “This is the most damage that one of the most powerful beings on Azeroth was able to do to me before I killed him,” she said. “A man who needed to turn away from the Light and accept necromancy just to kill  _ one Dreadlord _ . And I slew him at the height of his power. Be careful who you threaten, Paladin. Because it won’t be just me you have to fight if you do.”

She retrieved her gauntlet and fastened it back on, standing up to her full height.

“We can easily be allies, Turalyon. But you threaten anyone on this ship, and you will very quickly find yourself my enemy. And I’m not an enemy you want to have,” she said coldly before turning back to Illidan.

“I can attest,” the Demon Hunter said, stepping out of the shadows and addressing the High Exarch. “Darkflare is quite lethal with a blade, and she’s only gotten stronger since last we clashed.”

“Oh yeah, I meant to ask,” Anevay said with a chuckle. “You’re not upset about me killing you that one time?”

“You were but a weapon being directed by your masters,” Illidan explained. “Those who were blinded by a hatred for Fel over the Legion itself. I could not be angry at you than I could with a siege weapon.”

“Thanks,” Anevay smiled, clapping Illidan on the shoulder. “See Turalyon, be more like Illidan and we’ll get along just fine!”

Turalyon glowered. “Should I grow horns and cloven hoofs like him as well!?” he asked, his voice scratchy and burning. 

Illidan simply chuckled at how completely unhinged the Paladin appeared to be. “So much for the grace and dignity of the Lightforged,” he drawled.

“Once the Naaru get involved, it’s all downhill from there,” Anevay shook her head. Then her eyes widened as she came to a horrifying realization. “Oh no! They’re gonna get Yrel!”


	6. Can We Try Again?

Anevay stepped into Alleria’s room after dismissing the Dark Rangers. It was a strange occurrence to be  _ requested  _ rather than arriving of her own accord, but she nevertheless complied the moment Kalira delivered the message. “You wanted to see me, Captain Alleria?”

Alleria turned to look at Anevay. She looked more akin to the Ranger Captain the Blood Elf remembered all those years ago. Dawned in simple riding leaders and a dark Ranger cloak that likely came from one of the Tal’dorei guarding her. The skin on her face still seemed rather pale and thin but she looked in far better health than when she was found aboard the Xenedar.

“Lady Darkflare. Yes,” she confirmed stepping up to Anevay. “First… I want to thank you for breaking me out of that prison. Most other people wouldn’t have thought to set me free knowing only that Void power came from the other side of that door.”

“The Void doesn’t scare me,” Anevay smiled politely. “The Army of the Light has outdated views.”

Alleria opened her mouth to say something before visibly wincing, a gloved hand rising to press against her temple. She shook her head slightly, trying to banish the incessant voices before talking again. “Well, either way, you have my thanks,” she said, inclining her head respectfully. “Secondly… I recall what you told me about Quel’thalas and Lordaeron when last we spoke. I’ve had much of it confirmed by my son and the other Dark Rangers since. I just… I was hoping you could go into more detail so I could have a better understanding.”

“Alright, I suppose I can do that,” Anevay nodded, taking a seat in one of the armchairs around the infirmary bed and inviting Alleria to sit in another. “What exactly would you like to know, Captain?”

Alleria walked over to the chair across from Anevay. Her fingers began drumming almost inaudibly on the arm of her seat once she sat down. Her brow furrowed as she struggled to get her thoughts together. 

“...You called Vereesa a traitor,” she began. “Why? What happened?” 

Anevay pursed her lips and started down at her hands. “...There were two things that branded her a traitor in my eyes. The first is the Purge of Dalaran. She and the leader of the Kirin Tor rampaged through Dalaran slaughtering our people. Soldiers and civilians alike,” she explained. “The other… was a lot more personal.”

Alleria struggled to keep her expression reserved and poised, and to Anevay it was a fruitless gesture. She had spent far too long with Sylvanas not to pick up on even the subtlest of facial cues. 

“I see,” Alleria said, managing to keep her tone even. “...Arator told me that what little remains of our people has been fractured. Are Vereesa’s actions a part of that schism?”

Anevay nodded. “Most of the surviving elves renamed themselves Sin’dorei and later joined the Horde. A few remained with the Alliance and abandoned Quel’thalas entirely. The Quel’dorei have carried a seething hatred of the Sin’dorei ever since.”

“The Horde…” Alleria whispered in disbelief, her eyes falling to her lap as the whispers started to get restless. “...But the Horde has caused nothing but death and grief for our people. After only a few decades, how could they have forgotten that?”

“Different Horde. Formed after the Third War by an orc named Thrall,” Anevay explained. “The Horde is considerably more diverse than it was in the First and Second war. The current Warchief is actually not even an orc. She’s Thalassian.”

Alleria blinked. “...One of our people is leading the Horde?” she asked incredulously. “Who?”

“Sylvanas,” Anevay said. “She became Warchief after the previous Warchief, a troll named Vol’jin, was killed by the Burning Legion.”

Alleria’s eyes widened. Sylvanas was Warchief of the Horde!? Was… was this some twisted vision being forced onto her by one of the whispers? What sort of mess had Azeroth become for such a thing to become true? 

She managed to meet Anevay’s eyes again. “...You said that Sylvanas was undead,” she said almost inaudibly. 

Anevay nodded. 

“...Tell me what happened. All of it.”

Anevay visibly bristled, already hearing the screaming in the back of her mind. “I… I can’t do that, Captain Alleria. Th-That’s a painful memory…” she wrung her fingers and stared at her knees. The screaming was growing louder with every passing moment.

“Then tell me this,” Alleria said. “...Is she still my sister? Is she the woman I know would always give her life for Quel’Thalas? Or is she something else?”

“...It’s impossible to go through the kind of torture she went through and come out unchanged, Captain Alleria,” Anevay said, trying to ignore the memories. “Many people believe she’s something else. And maybe they’re right. But… I don’t believe she is. She’s still Sylvanas. Colder. Harsher. Less willing to trust, but… still her.”

“And you’re now her… her lover?” Alleria asked, her brow furrowing as she appeared to struggle even grasping such a notion. “Is that… do you truly believe that she cares for you in such a way? Given her state?”

Anevay nodded in response. “Without a doubt. There’s nothing on Azeroth I believe with more certainty.” She fumbled inside her cloak and wrapped her fingers around the small box in her pocket. “We’ve been through a lot together the last few years. I was there for her when Vereesa abandoned her.”

“Abandoned her?” Alleria asked, a brow arching with confusion. “Is that… Was that the second betrayal you mentioned?”

Anevay nodded. “Vereesa and Sylvanas were plotting to assassinate the former Warchief, Garrosh. Vereesa was even talking about moving to the Undercity. She eventually went back on all of it, and only sent Sylvanas a letter to tell her so. She was heartbroken by what Vereesa did.”

“Anar’alah,” Alleria whispered, appearing to be utterly lost for words. “...What has become of my family?”

“Well… it’s been broken, unfortunately,” Anevay sighed. “But… well, I have high hopes for the future.”

“And why is that?” Alleria asked, looking up from her hand.

“Well for one, I promised myself that I would bring you back to Sylvanas with an open mind. That I wouldn’t let her lose another sister,” Anevay explained as she pulled the small box out of her cloak. “For two, well… let’s just say I have plans for after this is all over.” She held the box out to Alleria.

Alleria hesitantly took the box, having to push back the whispers that insisted it was a trap. With the utmost caution, she opened it, revealing a dazzling golden band resting inside.  Blue eyes shot wide open as she looked back at Anevay. “...You intend to marry Sylvanas?” she asked. 

“If she says yes,” Anevay shrugged. A tense, constricting feeling spread through her chest. She felt on the spot despite having agreed to this. “I-It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while.”

Alleria was momentarily dumbfounded, unable to even consider what to say. But something about the nervous expression on Anevay’s face, the worry that Sylvanas would turn her down, that brought a smile to her face. 

“...Well I may not exactly know the kind of woman my sister has become, but if she is anything like you described her to be…” Alleria’s smile grew a touch wider as she closed the box and returned it to Anevay, “...then I see no reason why she wouldn’t say yes.”

Anevay looked up as she took back the box, running her fingers over the silk casing. She smiled at Alleria. “Thank you, Captain Alleria. That’s… that means a lot to me. My relationship with your sister doesn’t get much support from the public.”

Alleria’s smile grew slightly at that, and then is slowly began to ebb. “...Does Sylvanas know that you have found me yet?” she asked. “Have you… sent a message back or anything?”

Anevay shook her head. “No, not yet. This is… a delicate subject for her. I’d rather not inform her until I can be certain she won’t just get her heart broken again.”

“You suspect that I will abandon her as Vereesa did?” Alleria inquired, her frown deepening. 

“I can’t rule it out,” Anevay shook her head. “Alleria, do you know how many of her old friends and family that were still living actually sought her out to reconnect with her after her undeath?”

Alleria braced herself for an answer she was sure she wouldn’t like. “How many?”

“One,” Anevay said, holding up a single finger. “Me.”

Alleria blinked. “...Really? No one else even tried?” 

Anevay shook her head.  Alleria’s brow furrowed as she puzzled over that information. On one hand, she understood not wanting to associate with an undead, even if that undead was someone you once loved. She fought several Death Knights in the second war. Malicious orc warlocks whose souls were bound to the shambling, decaying bodies of humans. Revolting, insidious creatures. No one would want to associate with such undead.  But… was Sylvanas truly that kind of undead? Or was she just like the Dark Rangers that she knew stood watch just outside that door? Images of both flashed in her mind in contrast to the Sylvanas she knew from memory and the uncertainty, the not knowing, was what made it difficult for her to properly deduce what the situation was. 

“...I cannot promise to react to Sylvanas the way that either of you might desire,” Alleria said finally looking back up to Anevay. “I have only heard testimonies from you, Arator and Vereesa. Very little of your stories line up. I will have to wait and see Sylvanas myself before I can make such a judgement… but you have my word I will approach my sister with an open mind.”

“That’s all I ask. That you try,” Anevay nodded, standing up from her seat. “And that you aren’t too harsh if you decide you can’t be in her life.”

“Of course,” Alleria nodded, her eyes once again falling to her own hands. “...And I hope she does not think of me too harshly for what I have become.” 

“The Undead are immune to the Void’s influence. They may likely be the only people on Azeroth who won’t think twice about it,” Anevay said as she headed for the door. “I’m going to continue barring Vereesa from seeing you until you’re released from the infirmary. But if there’s someone else you’d like to allow to visit you, I’m open to hearing you out.”

Alleria’s frown deepened. She did not like the idea of any of her family being barred from seeing her. It made the whispers in her head scream of foul play and demand that she try to escape. She pushed back against the voices. She always pushed back. She could never trust their judgement. Doing so would only hasten the Void’s claim over her soul.  And so, she simply nodded. “I believe I heard the Dark Rangers say something about… Kalira,” she whispered. “I recall being fond of her since before I left Azeroth. I’m… not certain if those memories are real of just evidence of my own fractured mind, but… I would like to speak with her if she’s here.”

“Dark Ranger Kalira? Yes, I can approve that,” Anevay nodded with a smile. “She’s on the Vindicaar, actually. I’ll tell the guards she’s to be allowed in, and tell her that you want to speak with her. The apothecaries have said you’re under observation for another thirty hours, and then you’ll be free of Horde protection.”

“ _ Horde protection, _ ” Alleria parroted with a slight shudder. “Something about that phrase does not sit well with me. But… I thank you for your help, Lady Darkflare. Without you, I may very well have been left to rot in that cell. I hope you do not mistake my unease for lack of gratitude.”

“Not at all,” Anevay shook her head. “Your unease is far more tolerable than your husband’s, to be quite honest. I’ve had to threaten him four times now just to get him to stop harassing the rest of the soldiers.” 

_ ‘Turalyon,’  _ Alleria thought. Her husband. The man who had saved her from the dying at the hands of the Naaru. The man who threw her into that cell and ignored every and all plea to not be alone. The man who left her to the mercy of the whispers. For longer than she could remember, she fought back against the whispers demands to kill him. She clung to the belief that he did everything in his power to save her. That he wasn’t to blame.  Then Darkflare came along, tore the door to her cell off its hinges and tended to her long degrading health. She and the Horde under her command treated Alleria with respect and not as some creature meant to either be put down or imprisoned. And just like that, the hope and certainty she clung to in regards to her husband began to buckle and crack.

Anevay raised an eyebrow as she watched shadowy magic swirl around Alleria as she appeared to grow angrier and angrier. The elf could feel the void growing stronger in the room. Approaching her, she laid a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed it. “Captain Alleria? Are you alright?”

The whispers suddenly silenced. No. They _fled_. Fled from the touch of the woman who just laid a hand on Alleria. The Ranger Captain looked up at Anevay, feeling the power that thrummed just beneath her skin as well as see it burn in her eyes. It was not unlike the power she had seen from the countless demons she had slain over the centuries. And yet, something about her made the voices all but run. She could hear them try and cry out to her that Anevay was dangerous and she had to kill her now, but they felt… father. Less sure of themselves. 

That’s when it clicked. It wasn’t the demonic power inside of Anevay. It was just her. The whispers were afraid of  _ her.  _ What manner of creature could strike fear into the heart of the Void?

“...I am fine, Lady Darkflare,” Alleria managed to say, the dark power around her fading from sight. “Just lost in thought, I suppose.” A wry grin found its way onto her lips. “A common occurrence when you have a parliament of madness inside your head.”

Anevay pursed her lips. She wanted to press Alleria further, but she knew when she had already pushed her luck to begin with and so said nothing. “Alright, if you’re sure,” she said, taking her hand off Alleria’s shoulder. “You didn’t mention Turalyon when I asked about visitors. Should I continue to bar him entry as well?”

“...Please,” Alleria said softly. “I’m… not ready to face him.” 

“As you wish,” Anevay nodded.

* * *

Kalira was surprised to receive the request from Alleria, and very nearly called Anevay out for such a weird prank, but eventually after some convincing she made her way down to the Infirmary. The Rangers let her pass, and she stepped into Alleria’s room. She found Allieria sat in one of the chairs, with Arator sat beside her. Both of them looked up when she entered, Arator looking considerably guarded.

“Captain Alleria? I’m Dark Ranger Kalira Sundreamer,” Kalira nodded. “You wanted to speak to me?”

Alleria looked pensively at Kalira. She looked much different than what her mind’s eye remembered her as. Where once there was a woman with lightly sunkissed skin with rich brown hair dawning typical ranger leathers and a green Farstrider cloak, this Kalira wore black head to toe and had unbroken, yet deathly pale skin and deep, burning red eyes. She looked every bit the Dark Ranger as all the others, yet in the time they spent guarding her, Alleria did not appear perturbed by them anymore. 

“Kalira yes,” Alleria nodded in confirmation. “Thank you for coming.”

Kalira eyed Arator warily as she sat down in the chair opposite her. “You’re welcome. That paladin isn’t going to attack me, is he?”

Alleria turned to look back at Arator, noting how he looked quite uneasy. She placed a gentle hand atop his. Luckily, it didn’t cause her skin to burn. While Arator indeed harnessed the power of the Light, he was not Lightforged like his father. As such, her Void touched soul was not pained by the contact. 

“It’s okay, Arator,” she said, finding her mother’s tone coming more easily to her than she might have thought. “I know Kalira. She can be trusted.”

Arator’s face wrinkled with uncertainty. “...With all due respect, mother, you have been gone a long time. Much has changed in our homeland.”

“I’m aware,” Alleria nodded. “But Kalira is under Darkflare’s command. I trust Darkflare, so I trust her. You can trust her too.” 

“Anevay answers directly to our Queen, Captain Alleria,” Kalira explained. “To go against her orders is tantamount to treason. If she says you live, then you live.”

“I appreciate that, Kalira,” Allera said with a smile. “And I appreciate you answering my request for an audience.”

“So what did you wish to see me regarding?” Kalira asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Alleria’s lips pursed into a thin line as she mulled the question over. In truth, now that Kalira was actually here, her reasoning to ask her here felt a little silly.  “...I have been away from our homeland for quite some time,” she began. “And with all that I’ve… experienced since then, my memories seem… eskew. Fractured. I’m not sure what I actually remember and what was just scrapped from fiction.” She looks back up at Kalira. “I remember us being close once. We were in the same squadron together. Am I remembering that correctly?”

“Yes, actually,” Kalira nodded. A sheepish smile came to her face as she rubbed the back of her neck, the glow of her eyes flaring and illuminating her cheeks. “Actually for a time, we were…  _ extremely  _ close.”

Alleria blinked, a similar redness growing in her own cheeks. “...Oh.” 

Arator promptly rose from his seat. “And I will take that as my cue to leave,” he said, his unease not so much fading as it did find a new source to feed it. “I certainly don’t need to hear where this conversation is going.” 

As Arator left, Kalira awkwardly brushed her hair behind her ear. “Um… it wasn’t really… serious. We just fooled around for a few years. It all stopped a year before the Second War.”

“I see,” Alleria whispered, her eyes seemingly unable to look away from Kalira. “Well… if it’s not too bold to say… I must admit that you are… surprisingly lovely in your undeath.”

“Oh… thank you,” Kalira smiled, fiddling with her fingers. The dark magic that surged through her undead coil pulsed, almost as if she still had a heartbeat that was racing. “Not many among the living would say that about us.”

“Well… given my most recent experience with undead before arriving here was that the orcs used in the second war, your undeath seems more… refined for lack of a better descriptor,” Alleria commented, a small smile growing on her lips before it fell swiftly. “...If you don’t mind me asking… how different is it? From life, I mean.” 

“Well let me start by saying that most Forsaken don’t quite appreciate remarks about us being more refined than Undead that are quite literally enslaved,” Kalira said, pursing her lips slightly. “As for how different it is… extremely. We don’t feel much of anything. Our senses are muted. Food tastes like ash to us. We… aren’t normally capable of being intimate with others. Anger comes to us more easily than other emotions. Most of the time we suffer in this state.”

Alleria felt a pang of guilt ache in her chest. The whispers grew louder, telling her that these were all lies. Saddened falsehoods meant to lower her defenses. She pushed them back of course. There was no reason for Kalira to lie to her about such things.

“...I am sorry, Kalira,” she said softly. “I hadn’t realized.”

“It’s alright,” Kalira waved her down. “The High Overlord has spent the last few years experimenting with the apothecaries to ease some of our burdens. She’s been able to make food we can taste, and tea that relaxes us. Not in good supply, but enough to have a moment of reprieve from this torment.”

Alleria tilted her head with intrigue. “Has she now?” she asked. “Well… High Overlord Darkflare does seem rather empathetic to you all. Apparently more so than most other living souls on Azeroth. Why is that?”

“I… I’m not entirely sure, honestly,” Kalira shrugged. “She’s always dodged the question whenever anyone asks her. But she’s become a true friend to the Forsaken over the last several years. And extremely important to the Dark Lady.”

“Yes. So I’ve been told.” Alleria thought about that for a moment. The idea of Sylvanas finally settling down with someone seemed odd enough, nevermind the fact that she only did so after rising into undeath. “How… how are the both of them? Together, I mean.” 

“It’s hard to say, they tend to keep to themselves most of the time,” Kalira shrugged. “The few times we have seen them, they’ve seemed absolutely taken with each other. Mind you, when Anevay outed them to the Horde, most of the Forsaken weren’t really surprised.”

“...Outed them to the Horde?” Alleria inquired with an arched brow. “How did that happen?”

“The night Sylvanas was made Warchief, Anevay kissed her in front of a crowd,” Kalira said with a humored smile.

That certainly surprised Alleria. It certainly made sense that Sylvanas was averse to public displays of affection. Aside from the usual fling, the former Ranger General seemed more married to her work than anything. To hear that such a thing happened in front of her public.  “...Well it seems that Darkflare is not afraid of upsetting Sylvanas,” she commented. 

“Oh quite the contrary,” Kalira shook her head. “Apparently she’d been exhausted and, due to circumstances I won’t get into, was under the impression the Dark Lady left her to die. When it turned out she was wrong, she threw herself at her. Otherwise, she’s as intimidated by the Dark Lady as any other Forsaken.” Anyway, I hope you didn’t ask me here just to gossip about the Champion, Lady Alleria.”

“Oh, no of course not,” Alleria assured Kalira. “I am simply trying to… ascertain how much of Azeroth has changed since last I walked foot there.” She chewed at her bottom lip for a moment. “...What of the survivors of the fall? The… Sin’dorei? What has come of them?”

“They’ve been rebuilding,” Kalira shrugged. “Frankly I’m not all too familiar with what’s been going on in Quel’Thalas. I haven’t been there since the Fall. But it seems as if they’ve been getting back to a sense of normalcy in the last fifteen years. The rebirth of the Sunwell has likely helped.”

“Oh have they?” Alleria said, a smile returning to their face. “That’s good. In our early campaigns away from home, I recall the effects of arcane withdrawal. I cannot fathom what it must have been like for those of us who lost the Sunwell completely.”

“I’m not certain,” Kalira shrugged. “Undeath has made magical withdrawal not a concern. And Lady Darkflare continues to consume fel crystals to get by.”

Alleria blinked. That was right. Anevay’s body gave off Fel Magic. Not that of the Sunwell. Was it because she spent her time serving Sylvanas in Lordaeron instead of in Quel’thalas? Why  _ did _ Anevay serve in Lordaeron instead of Quel’Thalas? She wanted to ask, but remembered what Kalira said about gossip so she thought better of it.

“Vereesa told me that a number of our people broke away to rejoin the Alliance,” Alleria said. “...It seems each side calls the other traitors. I’m… not sure what to make of it.”

“Personally I don’t put much stock in it,” Kalira shrugged. “In Lordearon, the trifles of Quel’Thalas are too far away to care. Anevay only started caring recently, and she’s the only one in the entire Undercity who does. My best advice would be to speak to the others. Make your own conclusion from there.”

Alleria did her best to stifle a frown. It was unfortunate to see a fellow Ranger she once considered close to not truly care about their homeland anymore, but she couldn’t find it within herself to blame her. The whispers certainly could, however, but what did she care what they thought?

“Very well then,” Alleria nodded. “I suppose I have one more question. After that I will stop troubling you.” 

“Of course, Lady Alleria,” Kalira nodded with a small smile. “What is it?”

“Lady Darkflare says that the Undead are… impervious to the influence of the Void,” Alleria said. “Do you happen to know why this is? Or perhaps know someone who would?”

“The void cannot touch what’s already dead,” Kalira explained. “I’m not entirely certain why, but I suppose it’s similar to the way the Void repels and pushes back against the Light. They’re a… different force. It’s not of the living world, I suppose. I’m told the Light too does not exist beyond death. Hence why it burns us so.”

“...I see.” Alleria’s brow knitted deeply, the gears in her head turning. Ideas came, were discarded and then almost immediately picked back up. The whispers continued to rage against her thought process, so formulating a solid idea was difficult. 

What she did understand was that Sylvanas was, in fact, immune to the influence currently raging inside her mind. 

“...Thank you, Kalira,” Alleria said finally, returning her attention to the Dark Ranger. “You have been most helpful, and… it’s good to speak to an old friend again.”

“Of course,” Kalira smiled, relaxing a little as she twiddled her fingers. “I’ve… I’ve thought about you a few times over the years. I never really did get to say goodbye to you before you went through the portal…”

Alleria frowned, her ears drooping slightly as she struggled to meet Kalira eyes. “...I am sorry about that. I was a mess after Lirath’s death.”

“Oh it’s not your fault,” Kalira shook her head and waved her down. “There’s no need to apologize. I… I uh… heard you and the Paladin actually… married at some point. Is that true?”

“...That is true,” Alleria said, a hint of venom suddenly seeping into her voice. “...And then he threw me into a cell for centuries. So I wouldn’t say we’re currently in a state of marital bliss.”

“What?!” Kalira balked, sitting forward and suddenly energized by such a horrifying revelation. “A cell?! For centuries?! What in the Endless Dark did he do that for?!”

“Because I accepted the Void into my veins,” Alleria explained, looking back down at her hands. Her skin remained it’s usual pigmentation, albeit a little paler, but the veins she could see on her wrist ran dark purple. A subtle hint of the power that flowed within her. “...We were in a dire battle. The demons threatened to overrun us. A Fallen Naaru reached out to me. Promising me that the power of the Void would help me destroy our enemies.” Her open hand clenched into a tight fist. “...The Xenedar would have been destroyed. Turalyon would have died. I had no other choice. I accepted the power and drove the demons back.” 

The rush of anger ebbed slightly, though only to make way for sorrow. “...Xe’ra said it was sacrilege what I did. She said I needed to have my soul purged if I were to be saved. Of course… ‘saving’ my soul would have destroyed my body. Turalyon pleaded for my life… so instead they put me in a cell. Never to be seen or heard from again.”

Kalira put a hand to her mouth. Suddenly a lot of things made a LOT more sense. Anevay’s seemingly sudden and intense anger toward the Army of the Light was put into a much more grave context, as well as the intense guard put around her every hour of every day. It wasn’t to protect the ship from the Void, it was to protect  _ Alleria  _ from the  _ Light _ .

“That’s… that’s horrible,” she whispered. “No wonder Anevay was so furious with the Lightforged…”

“Honestly, she’s not the only one,” Alleria said, curling into herself slightly. “...All those years, I told myself that Turalyon did that all to protect me. That he only wanted what was best for me.” The elf began to tremble. “But… he left me all alone. I screamed for him. I begged to see him. To just… just talk to him. I-I know he could hear me. But… he ignored me.” 

Her eyes began to burn, her vision soon growing blurry with welling, unshed tears. She looked down, hoping her hair would drape over her face and mask her shameful expression. The whispers screamed at her, berating her for being so vulnerable to ‘the enemy’. They demanded that she lash out. That she strike Kalira down where she stood. But it took all the strength she had to not break down crying. She couldn’t follow their orders even if she wanted to.

Kalira, not knowing what to say in this sort of situation, decided to follow her High Overlord’s lead. She stood up, crossed the small room, and wrapped her arms around Alleria’s shoulders, hugging her tightly.

“You… what was it she always says…” Kalira muttered. “You didn’t deserve that, Captain Alleria…”

Alleria was very nearly alarmed when she felt Kalira touch her, but the alarm soon gave way to shere surprise when she was pulled into the hug. 

The Ranger Captain was stunned into silence by the act. In all her centuries fighting everything from Trolls to Pit Lords, being affectionately embraced by an undead was something she never expected to happen in her life. 

Kalira was cold. That much was expected. Though compared to the suffocating cold of the cell she was trapped in for so long, Kalira’s almost inert cold was more akin to a gentle breeze. What’s more was she could feel the thrum of necromantic energies animating her body. They did not burn, like it did when she touched the Lightforged, but she could tell that the Void inside of her did not like it in the slightest. It seemed to hide within itself, not wanting to peek past the surface of her skin lest it come into contact with the undead energy. 

Between the cool touch and the Void all but recoiling away, Kalira’s hug actually felt… pleasant. Enough so that Alleria suddenly realized she was already returning it.  “...Thank you, Kalira,” she said softly, resting her chin against the nape of the other elf’s neck. “It… it means alot to me to hear you say that.”

“It’s true,” Kalira nodded, running a hand over her back, trying to mimic what she’d seen (and felt) Anevay do for the Dark Rangers countless times. “I can’t imagine how horrible that kind of solitude must have been. At least we have our fellow Forsaken… are you going to be okay?”

Alleria did her best to hide her face, not trusting herself not to break down if she met Kalira’s eyes. “...I do not know,” Alleria said. “The voices are unkind, and I find myself desperate for someone to trust. I just… I am so…  _ angry. _ And if it doesn’t stop I might very well go mad.”

“I… well, there might be a few ways to silence the whispers,” Kalira said, gripping Alleria’s shoulders. “There… there’s an elixir that Anevay makes that does wondrous things for the Undead. Maybe… it can do something for you as well.”

“...Perhaps,” Alleria said, doing what she could not to instinctively nuzzle Kalira’s cool neck. “Anything is better than centuries in darkness.” 

“I’ll speak to her when I can,” Kalira nodded, pulling away completely. “I promise.”

Alleria, to her credit, was able to meet Kalira’s gaze then. Though the color of her undead eyes was certainly different, they carried a hint of that familiar warmth. It wasn’t exactly the same, nothing about Kalira was exactly the same. Of course, neither was Alleria. They both had become very different people from when last they met. Still, she was familiar enough to be comforting. 

“Thank you, Kalira,” Alleria smiled. “Even after all this time, you remain a good friend.”

Kalira tensed up slightly, the glow flaring beneath her eyes. “I could-” she started, but then stopped herself. She sighed and then gripped Alleria’s hand tightly before letting go. “It’s the least I can do, Lady Alleria…”

“Even so, you have my gratitude,” Alleria said, her smile never wavering. It was then that she suddenly acted without thinking for the first time since… since longer than she could remember. By sheer impulse, she reached up and brushed a stay lock from Kalira’s eyes before she could think better of it.

Kalira gasped slightly and looked away from the former Ranger Captain. Her cheeks were glowing with dark magic and a familiar tension was coiling deep within her. “I… I uh…” she stammered. Alleria’s touch wasn’t as intense as Anevay’s, but the tenderness of the act wasn’t lost on her. She was dead, not stupid.

Alleria blinked, timidly recalling her hand back to her side. “I… apologies. That was… too forward, wasn’t it?”

“...Too forward?” Kalira said nervously. She couldn’t have… that wasn’t… just play dumb! Then she’ll have to explain. “I… I don’t quite follow, Lady Alleria…”

Alleria opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Her mind was racing with a possible answer that didn’t show her hand. Wait, what hand?

“I… I mean, I worry that I just made you uncomfortable,” she clarified.

“...No. No you didn’t,” Kalira whispered, leaning in closer to her. “Just… nervous…”

Alleria’s eyes widened a fraction. “...N-Nervous?”

“Well… I mean... this could go in so many different directions, I-” Kalira cleared her throat and tried to get her tongue to cooperate. A problem not uncommon for most Forsaken, but for different reasons. “I’m not… sure.”

“Oh, yes… I see,” Alleria felt a rising heat in her cheeks. It had been so long since she felt anything of the sort, the sensation almost felt alien to her.  _ ‘Anar’Alah!’  _ she cursed inwardly.  _ ‘I’ve led military campaigns against demons for centuries! I’ve stared death in the face and never wavered! And now I’m getting flustered by an old flame that’s technically dead!? What is wrong with me!?’  _ The whispers were not kind in their answers, so she opted to ignore them. 

“Well…” Alleria began after she managed to get her thoughts together. “...If you and I see this invasion through to the end… if we can, in fact, return to Azeroth afterwards… do you think that maybe we can… catch up?”

“Absolutely,” Kalira said almost immediately. So many feelings had come rushing back to her so quickly that she felt like she’d been resurrected properly. “I’d love to. I… I missed you.”  Her gloved hands came up to rest on Alleria’s cheeks, quietly wishing her fingers weren’t so withered and bony underneath. It had been nearly thirty years since Alleria went through the Dark Portal, and thirty one since they’d last been together at all. And yet now that she was speaking to her, it felt like no time had passed in the slightest. Was this how Anevay had felt when she returned to Sylvanas’ service?

A small, validated smile returned to Alleria’s face and before she even realized it, she was pulling Kalira back into a hug. She didn’t have to fight against her impulses because it wasn’t the voices telling her to do this. It was her own instincts. Instincts telling her to hold an old friend. She was a little worse for wear from the tests of time, but she was still here and still someone she cared about. “...I missed you too,” she said lightly in the Tal’dorei’s ear.

Kalira gasped softly as she squeezed Alleria tightly. “...Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Alleria whispered.

“Can… can we try again?” Kalira said, almost inaudibly.

Alleria’s eyes widened. “You… you actually want that?” 

Kalira didn’t respond verbally, but she could feel her nod against her shoulder. 

Alleria was quiet for a moment before she let out a small huff of laughter. “That’s funny… I was thinking about asking you the same thing after, you know, all of this. Perhaps over a drink or something.” She winced slightly, as if stepping on a creaky floor that would have woken someone. “...You can drink, right?”

“Sort of,” Kalira nodded. “Most alcohol doesn’t do anything besides occupy my hands. But recently the High Overlord has been experimenting with something that can get the undead intoxicated.”

“I honestly would kill for something strong right about now,” Alleria said with a chuckle. “Perhaps it will quiet my mind.” 

“Again, I’ll ask,” Kalira laughed, holding tighter to Alleria. “...This is nice. I never expected something like this would happen to me again…”

“Nor I,” Alleria said, gingerly running her hand along Kalira’s back. “I had thought such things were behind me. Felt like eons that I was trapped in that cell.” 

Kalira nodded and gently pulled Alleria in closer. “Yeah. Feels like eons since I’ve been alive,” she whispered, her cold breath ghosting over Alleria’s lips.

Alleria shivered slightly, her skin pebbling with gooseflesh as she felt the chill of Kalira’s words. Hardly an unpleasant feeling, though. In fact, it was quite alluring. She felt herself leaning closer, her own lips drawing closer to Kalira’s when.

Something stopped her. Not the whispers, but a thought of her own. A realization. 

“It… I’m not sure if we can… try anything right away,” she whispered mournfully, withdrawing just an inch. “...My husband is still on this ship and… and I know he will make a scene.” 

“Let him,” Kalira whispered. “We have the scarier Windrunner spouse on board.”

Alleria was about to protest that point before she remembered the way that Anevay had actually frightened the whispers into silence. From that and what other things she heard about her, perhaps she truly was a force to be reckoned with. 

“Well… if you insist,” she husked out before leaning forward and finally,  _ finally,  _ capturing those dark lips with her own. They were colder and rougher than she remembered them being. Nevertheless, she melted into the kiss, practically clinging to Kalira at this point. By the Sunwell, it just felt so good to kiss someone again. Even better that it was someone she cared for.

Kalira was practically floating on air. While she could only barely feel Alleria’s lips on her own, the memory of being kissed when she was alive filled in the rest of the gaps for her. She practically dug her fingernails into Alleria’s back as she chased that fleeting sensation. That memory. Her entire undead coil thrummed in satisfaction, and she felt like she was going to melt.  Truly, this was the reprieve she’d craved since she felt the warmth of life for the first time, years ago.


	7. Those Who Can’t Become Lightforged

Anevay watched with tension as the pieces of Xe’ra were placed around Light’s Heart. Even with the stasis crystals in place, she wasn’t exactly keen on the Light Mother materializing around all these Demon Hunters, Void Priests and Forsaken. As the Heart ignited and it took shape, the crystals activated as well, casting a shimmering barrier around the rising Naaru.

“What is this?!” Turalyon demanded, rising from the knee he had taken and staring at the arcane barrier.

“A precaution,” Anevay explained as she, Silysa and Illidan stepped forward in front of the rising Naaru.

“A precaution!?” he balked. “For what!?”

“The Naaru have a habit of behaving in a manner that is… well as Lady Darkflare puts it, ‘Super Fucky,’” Silysa explained. “This is so she doesn’t try to purge any of our souls on reflex.”

Xe’ra finished her rise, and gave off a brilliant light as her top pieces began to orbit her. Despite its intensity, the arcane field shielded the vulnerable members of the Legionfall from it’s effects. The three Commanders along with Turalyon stepped closer.  “We are blessed to be in your presence once more, Xe’ra,” Turalyon said, looking at the Naaru with a reverence that none of the other commanders had ever seen given to a superior before.

Well almost, Silysa thought as she glanced at Anevay.

“Turalyon,” Xe’ra acknowledged, her voice somehow light and yet all encompassing. “It is good to see the most faithful still among us.” 

Though she had no eyes to move, the others could somehow tell when her gaze was upon them. “And I see my message has reached new allies. Greetings, my children. The Light thanks you for your service.” 

Anevay was the first to speak up, stepping forward from the group. “My name is Anevay Darkflare. Champion of the Forsaken, High Overlord of the Horde and commander of the Horde’s forces against the Burning Legion. Welcome to the Vindicaar, Xe’ra.”

“Thank you, child,” Xe’ra greeted. “I am grateful for all you have done, and yet I sense that you are wary. You keep a wall between me and yourself. And all of these lost souls.” 

Silysa furrowed a brow as she looked around. “Does… does she mean us?” 

“I have my misgivings about the Naaru,” Anevay said, folding her arms and pacing along the barrier. “The Alliance Commander and the Illidari’s leader were kind enough to accommodate them. Not to mention this ship is filled with those who do not do well in the light.”

“The Light welcomes all to embrace it’s salvation and shepherd them to sanctuary,” Xe’ra replied, her luminescent form flaring slightly in it’s goulden glow. “You need only find it within yourself to follow the path.”

“I’ll pass. I have my own path waiting for me,” Anevay said with a shrug. “I’m willing to be your ally, Xe’ra, but I won’t be your thrall.”

“The path of the Light will always be there for you to walk when you are ready, Anevay,” Xe’ra said, as if misunderstanding or just not listening to Anevay’s decline. “It is never too late for redemption.” 

“I think you misunderstand me. It’s not a matter of not being ready,” Anevay said, pacing back toward the group. “I have chosen a different path entirely. As I said, I am your ally. Not a potential recruit. And I have nothing to redeem for.”

Xe’ra said nothing in response, and in that moment the ethereal light she exuded came off as ominous. 

Silysa was the next to approach. “Pardon me, your… excellence? Radiance? I’m sure we can all have a lovely conversation about faith and so forth, but there is still a Legion to take down. We’ve routed them to their base of operations, but if we’re going to stop them once and for all, we’re going to need every advantage we can get.”

“The Legion’s demise is certainly within reach, my child,” Xe’ra replied, her otherworldly tone echoing slightly throughout the chamber. “But for that, we will need the one the Prophecy spoke of.” 

Silysa blinked. “Oh… of course! The prophecy!” She smiled widely and quite unnaturally before leaning over to ask Anevay through closed teeth. “ _ What prophecy? _ ”

“You know, I’m not entirely certain myself, to be honest,” Anevay replied, turning and gesturing to Illidan to come forward. “All I do know is it involves him.”

Illidan approached the barrier, his wings twitching as he looked up at the caged Naaru.

“Illidan,” Xe’ra said, her tone suddenly mournful, “You have come so far, and suffered so much. And now, the time of your ascension is finally upon you.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” Illidan drawled, folding his arms. “I will not need your ‘ascension’ to do what must be done.” 

“My child,” Xe’ra said, almost condescendingly. “Do you not wish to reclaim what was lost? To be whole again?”

Despite the barrier, Anevay gripped the hilt of her warblade as Xe’ra’s tone became less and less friendly.

"The Legion's end is all I seek," Illidan said with a conviction Anevay had never heard before.

"My child. You've given so much for so little," Xe'ra chimed as wisps of the Light brushed up against the barrier. "Let go of your shattered form and embrace the Light's power."

“I’ve traded my freedom for power before,” Illidan said snidely. “It is not a mistake I intend to repeat.” 

The arcane barrier around the Naaru suddenly quaked, an unseen force causing strain on the spell keeping Xe’ra contained. Anevay glanced back to several Tirisgarde mages and gestured to the stasis crystals.

“Reinforce that barrier!” she commanded.

The mages moved forward and began channeling, and the barrier shimmered with arcane energy. The additional power made the quaking and straining become less severe, but it was only a stopgap at most.

“Illidan,” Xe’ra responded, her voice growing more and more grave. “The prophecy. Must.  _ Be.  _ **_Fulfilled._ ** ”

Another burst of holy power struck against the barrier, the strain causing the mages keeping it steady to wince. Illidan uncrossed his arms and steeled himself, preparing to go on the offensive. 

“You fools!” Turalyon said, stepping forward and shoving a mage to the ground. “Just let her go! This is madness!”

Anevay’s eyes darted back and forth between Xe’ra and Turalyon. She had to make a choice. Reluctantly she signalled to Silysa to stand beside Illidan while she drew her warblade and advanced on Turalyon. “Exarch! Back away from my mages!” she demanded.

Turalyon balked at Anevay’s threatening stance and drew his own sword. “I will not stand idly by as you treat our only hope like a prisoner!” he roared.  The barrier quaked again, this time causing the room to shake.

Silysa took her place at Illidan’s side, drawing her own blade and training it on the struggling Xe’ra. “It’s okay if you have to slay a Naaru today,” she whispered to herself. “Elune is  _ not _ a Naaru, despite what some idiots might say. You are  _ not _ blaspheming.” 

The mage returned to his feet and assisted his brethren in reinforcing the barrier while a half a dozen more ran up to help contain the angry Naaru. Dark Rangers nocked their arrows while the Horde soldiers also moved to prepare for a brawl.  Anevay kept her warblade trained on Turalyon while glancing toward the barrier. “Struggling isn’t making a good case for yourself, Naaru!”

A tense beat of silence passed before the strain against the barrier began to ebb. The mages remained vigilant in case she tried to lull them into a false sense of security, but they nonetheless appeared more at ease with the situation.  In place of brute force, Xe’ra instead decided to rely on her words again. “ _ Children _ ,” she beseeched, managing only to sound insincere. “ _ We must do everything we can to fulfill the prophecy and burn the Legion’s corruption from the cosmos. _ ”

“We are already doing that!” Anevay exclaimed as she lowered her weapons and approached the barrier. “The Legion has been pushed to the backfoot since they invaded Azeroth. We are winning this war. They will fall by the month’s end. You cannot forcibly convert someone to the Light. That’s exactly what the Legion does!”

The light that Xe’ra gave off seemed to… quiver slightly. “...The Light only wants Redemption and Salvation for all.” 

“That is not for  _ you  _ to decide,” Illidan interjected. “You say that your path is open to all, but not everyone will choose to follow it. Not everyone will become one of your flock on their own accord.” 

Anevay sheathed her warblade as a thought occurred to her. “Xe’ra. This ‘Salvation’ you speak of. You’re talking about creating more Lightforged, are you not?”

“Of course,” Xe’ra responded. “A universe where all will be blessed by the Light shall be a glorious day for all. Peace and prosperity across all worlds.” 

Silysa sucked air through her teeth and gave a wary glance over to Anevay. 

“And what about those who can’t become Lightforged?” Anevay asked, raising an eyebrow. “Like the Forsaken?”

The undead around the room could feel Xe’ra’s gaze upon them. Though none of her power seeped through the barrier, her attention was vastly unpleasant for them. 

“Those whose flesh cannot accept the Light can still have their darkness cleansed from their soul,” she said, her voice suddenly bursting with pride. “Their spirits can be cleansed and promised a prosperous hereafter.” 

Silysa’s blood ran cold. “...So that’s it!?” she asked. “Accept the Light into your body and die!?”

Anevay raised a hand up to silence Silysa as she continued. “So you would like to turn me into a Lightforged, then?” she asked. The tone in her voice signalled to Silysa that she was going somewhere with this line of questioning, and the kaldorei settled down somewhat.

Xe’ra, despite having no face, seemed genuinely surprised by Anevay’s question. “...If you would accept our gift,” she began, a tone of validation in her voice, “the Light would heal your body of its corruption and transform you into a bastion of justice and valor!” 

“But if you did that, I would no longer be able to touch the woman I love without burning her,” Anevay continued, her brow furrowing at the Naaru. “I would be forever forced to be apart from her, lest this… gift… harm her. What you would offer me is no gift. No salvation. It would be one of the most cruel, vile curses I have ever seen.”

“Love of the flesh is but a distraction, my child,” Xe’ra said plainly, causing Silysa to silently gasp at how immediate her dismissal was. “If this woman truly loves you, she would understand the decision you would make and perhaps seek the Light’s redemption in kind.” 

“Well I have made my decision already, Xe’ra,” Anevay folded her arms. “I made the choice long ago to one day join her in Undeath.”

“My child,” Xe’ra said chidingly. “Both of your souls can be cleansed by the light. You could spend a prosperous hereafter together if you accept our gift.”

“And would you so readily allow me to commit suicide to join her in the afterlife?” Anevay cocked an eyebrow at the Naaru.

Xe’ra was quiet for a time. 

“...I would never snuff out the light within you before it was time, my child,” she said finally, a hint of… worry apparent in her voice. The other three were quite surprised to hear that. “Your love would wait patiently on the other side, knowing that you would join them once your service to the Light has been completed.”

“I was apart from her twice before. For only a few years at a time,” Anevay explained. “It was hell. Truly hell. A hell I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. That time taught me that I truly couldn’t live without her. And that is why I will  _ never  _ accept your offer.”

“...My child, no absence is permanent to those bound by the Light,” Xe’ra insisted. “With patience and dedication, you can overcome any obstacle. Even those you impose on yourself.” 

“I’ve been patient enough. I’ve given enough,” Anevay said firmly, stepping back from the Naaru. “You ask for too much, and I refuse. I won’t give up what little I have for the sake of the Light.”

“Is simply touching this lost soul truly so important to you?” Xe’ra asked, beginning to sound indignant. “Is it truly worth more than the gift of the Light?”

“Yes,” Anevay nodded. “I wouldn’t trade my Queen for anything. She’s too precious to me.”

Xe’ra said nothing, but the intense light that shined from her amorphous being began to grow more and more intense. Illidan and Silysa steeled themselves for a confrontation while Anevay simply looked at the Naaru with a disinterested, unimpressed look.  Xe’ra looked ready to invoke her holy power unto the four of them when, suddenly, the light about her form dimmed.  “If that is your decision…” she said, her voice downright solem, “...then the Light will not force you.”

Anevay let out a sigh of relief, and every muscle in her body simultaneously unclenched. The thought of being forcibly converted to a Lightforged, and having to watch Sylvanas be disintegrated before her very eyes was a horrifying thought and it took all her willpower to see this diversion through without falling apart.

“Drop the barrier,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “She’s no longer a prisoner so long as she keeps her word and doesn’t forcibly convert anybody.”

The mages all nodded and lowered their hands, the arcane they were channeling losing form and dispersing into the air. 

Xe’ra, to her credit, did not take this chance at newfound freedom to begin throwing her holy power around. She instead looked down at the four before her. Anevay appeared visually relieved that the confrontation was over, as did Silysa. Illidan continued to glare warily at her while Turalyon could not possibly have looked more apologetic.

“If you’ll all excuse me,” Anevay said quietly as she retreated for the stairwell. She could hear rustling and knew someone was following her, but she didn’t turn around to find out who. She descended as far as the Holds when she ducked inside and made her way to the back, sitting down in an alcove created by the arrangements of the supply crates.  It was then that she finally broke down into tears. The thought of losing Sylvanas had quickly become her greatest fear, and she had stared down a being that could have made that nightmare a reality and challenged it. One wrong move and she would have never seen her again. The fear made her practically tremble. With her back to the heavy crates shielding her from sight she slid down onto the floor and curled into herself. She hid her face behind her knees and continued to sob quietly. 

After a moment, she heard the sound of someone knocking against the crates of the makeshift alcove. 

“Anevay?” Silysa asked. “Can I… come over?”

Anevay looked up at Silysa through tear-streaked eyes and nodded, beckoning her in. “Okay…”

Silysa stepped from around the crates to see Anevay looking more distraught than she ever saw her before. She slowly kneeled down against the wall across from the blood elf and gave her a sympathetic look. “You wanna talk about it?” she asked.

Anevay took a few quivering breaths as she tried to compose herself, before lifting her head from her knees. “I was playing with fire up there. I meant what I said. Nothing would be a worse fate than losing Sylvanas. And I came within a hair’s breadth of living that horrible nightmare.”

Silysa frowned, a sympathetic pang shooting through her chest. “You know I wouldn’t have let that happen,” she said softly. “I would have pried you from her pompous, self important grip if I had to.”

“That doesn’t ease the fear, Silysa,” Anevay said, wiping her eyes and face on her cloak. “Sylvanas is pretty much all I have anymore. I can’t lose her…”

“I know,” Silysa said softly. She got up enough to make her way over to Anevay’s side and settled back down, placing an arm around her shoulder. “But it’s okay. We’re going to get through this. We’re going to go home and you’ll get to propose to the most important woman of your life. You’re not gonna lose her, Anevay.”

Anevay leaned against Silysa as the tears started up again. All the ways this could go wrong and everything that could have killed her on this assault alone. She wasn’t even sure if Turalyon wouldn’t stab her in her sleep given the chance. “I think I might retire after this,” she said.

Silysa started rubbing Anevay’s upper arm, resting her cheek atop the smaller elf’s head as she gently wept. “You absolutely deserve that,” she murmured lightly. “If we all manage to make it back in one piece, we all deserve to retire.”

* * *

Anevay warped back onto the Vindicaar, exhausted and her armor scorched. The initial push into Antorus had gone off without a hitch, and they had a foothold in the citadel. All that was left was to fortify and prepare to assault the Burning Throne. A quick briefing with Magni told them that a Titan lay at the center of the Burning Throne, which fuelled the Legion’s perceived immortality by regenerating them in the heart of the Twisting Nether.  The notion of fighting a Titan had brought a solemn mood on the entire strike force.

As she entered the bridge, the sound of shouting and arguing had immediately struck Anevay’s ears, and she turned to see Alleria and Kalira being shouted at by Turalyon. Sighing in exasperation, and ignoring the pleading in her muscles to rest, Anevay sheathed her warblade and approached the three.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded. Alleria and Kalira looked angry, with Kalira’s expression carrying a tiny amount of fear.

Turalyon whipped back around to give Anevay an annoyed look. “What’s going on is you need to properly instruct your…  _ officers, _ ” the paladin flashed a scornful glare over to Kalira, “To keep their rotten paws to themselves.”

“Oh,  _ classy, _ ” Kalira sneered, doing her best to put herself between Turalyon and Alleria despite the latter trying to coax her back to her side.

“Okay, okay. Back the fuck up,” Anevay said with a huff. “What actually happened, Turalyon?”

The High Exarch’s nostrils flared, only offering Anevay sparing glances as he didn’t want to keep his eyes off of the other two elves. “Firstly, Alleria came to me wanting to talk about…” His face contorted, as if the next words had the promise to physically pain him. “...about the state of our marriage. She told me that she has been having doubts.”  A look over to Alleria confirmed to Anevay that this was indeed true. 

“...And then I found out the only reason she has thought as such was because  _ this _ creature,” Turalyon continued, emphatically pointing at Kalira, “has been molesting my wife!” 

“Turalyon,” Alleria cut in exasperatedly. “She did not  _ molest _ me.”

“Alright alright! You’re talking to me, not each other!” Anevay exclaimed, putting a hand on Alleria’s shoulder before turning her gaze to Kalira. “Kalira, explain yourself.”

Kalira turned from glaring venomously at Turalyon to looking rather sheepish before Anevay. “Well, High Overlord… I reported to Alleria’s room in the medical wing a few days ago,  _ as you ordered. _ We spent some time catching up and… well sparks flew, basically.” Her hand reached around for Alleria’s, who accepted it gingerly. “We… decided to give it another go, y’know?”

Anevay’s eyes widened in surprise at Kalira’s words as she turned to Alleria. “Is this true?”

Alleria nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“So you decided to cheat on your husband with a Dark Ranger,” Anevay concluded.

Alleria nodded, her ears drooping slightly in shame. “I had… initially intended to get everything sorted with Turalyon before we tried anything, but…” her hand squeezed Kalira’s more tightly. “I suppose I just got swept up in the moment.” 

“Alright, so the two of you have started a relationship and you’re breaking off your marriage to Turalyon. Sounds pretty cut and dry.” She then turned to Turalyon with a frown. “Now what’s your issue? Besides the fact that your wife is leaving you?”

“My  _ issue _ !?” Turalyon balked. “The  _ issue _ is that your subordinate has fooled my wife into thinking they have a history and convinced her to defile our marriage solely to suit her own twisted needs!”

“I only reminded Alleria of our past relations,” Kalira defended. “She already remembered that we were close, I just clarified  _ how _ close.”

“Actually that’s true,” Anevay nodded. “Kalira and Alleria had a thing going for about four years. They broke it off a few years before the Second War. They do in fact have a history together. And even if they hadn’t, it’s not a crime to propose a courtship, Turalyon.”

“Even if that person is married!?” Turalyon demanded before turning his attention back to Alleria. “...My love, if you simply told me that you had doubts, I… I would have understood. We could have helped each other move past this. But to say that you are throwing it all away for this… thing!? This cannot be right! It’s the whispers Alleria! They are trying to tempt you from the path!”

“Okay! You’re getting away from me now,” Anevay intervened, putting herself between Turalyon and Alleria. “I said you’re talking to me, not each other. Now, to answer your question: No, it’s not a crime to court a married person, Turalyon. Not in the Horde at least. I’m not sure about the Alliance-”

“Well in the Alliance I knew, it-”

“ **_But_ ** as neither of you are actually part of either faction, then no crime has actually been committed,” Anevay said, speaking over him. “The Alliance of Lordaeron is dead. The new Alliance is a different power entirely. So no crime has actually happened here. Which means you can do nothing but accept it or try to convince her otherwise.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do!?” Turalyon snarled. “This whole thing started because that conniving little tart decided to prey on her!”

“You just heard it from the both of them that no predation occurred whatsoever,” Anevay said, quietly impressed that Turalyon had moved from dehumanizing language to just regular old misogyny.

“Because I know that my wife is too proud to ever admit weakness in such a way!” Turalyon countered. “She doesn’t want to admit that she is being manipulated! If not by the whispers, then by  _ her _ !”

Alleria winced, her grip on Kalira’s hand impossibly tight.

“Well unless you can prove such a thing, then there’s nothing you or I can do about it,” Anevay folded her arms. “Alleria’s a grown woman, she can make her own decisions no matter how self-destructive they could be.”

“So you will stand by and do nothing while your own minion claws away at the vestiges of my wife’s sanity to make her a puppet!?” Turalyon balked. 

Kalira turned to look at Alleria, who was suddenly simmering with wisps of dark magic. “...Uh, Alleria?”  Alleria’s eyes were clamped shut, her jaw clenched as she desperately fought back the whispers. 

_ “Kill him. Kill her. Kill them both! Neither have claim over you. Only we can save your soul.”  _

Anevay stepped forward and laid a hand on Alleria’s shoulder. “Captain Alleria? Are you alright?” She gently squeezed her shoulder, hoping outside stimuli would distract from what was clearly the void digging around in her head.

Alleria’s eyes snapped back open as she looked around almost frantically. The whispers retreated when she felt a slightly warm grip on her shoulder. After a moment to release the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, she nodded. “...Y-Yes, I’m fine,” she insisted. 

“It was the whispers, wasn’t it?” Anevay asked softly.

Alleria nodded, standing upright and rubbing her head.

“Anevay, I had meant to ask,” Kalira said quietly. “Is there some way your elixir can quiet the whispers?”

Anevay turned her gaze to Kalira and furrowed her brow. “In its present state, the elixir is extremely toxic to the living. Almost as much as the Blight. Unless you’re asking me to hasten her demise, it won’t help as it is now.”

“But isn’t there something you can do?” Kalira asked.

“Hmm…” Anevay said, taking her hand off Alleria’s shoulder and tapping her chin. “The Void and the Light are opposed equals… Fel and Undeath are resistant and immune respectively… that’s a tough problem to solve, Kalira.”

“So you decided to release Alleria from containment without considering any alternative to keep the Void from corrupting her soul and hurting anyone!?” Turalyon asked, outrage heavy in his voice. “Can you not see your meddling has only made things worse for her?”

Alleria blinked, her husband's words suddenly grabbing her attention. “...Worse for me?” she asked almost inaudible before her face contorted with anger. “ _ Worse _ for me!? Worse than three centuries  _ alone _ in complete and utter darkness!? With nothing but the whispers to speak to me!? Worse than knowing my husband left me to rot and thinks himself noble because of it!?”

Turalyon reflexively flinched back as Alleria stormed up to him, surprise and panic glinting in his golden eyes. “...That’s not… My love you are not-”

“Worse than the fact that you would have let me stay in that wrecked vessel never to be seen or heard from again!?” Alleria continued. “You think that them letting me out, that Kalira having feelings for me, is somehow worse than all that!?”

“Alleria, please,” Anevay said, laying a hand back on the Captain’s shoulder. “Calm yourself. You don’t want to rile up the Void. C’mon, come to the Horde’s section of the ship and rest with Kalira. Turalyon won’t be able to bother you there, I promise.”

Just as she felt the whispers begin to bubble back to the forefront of her mind, Anevay’s hand pushed them back again. She remained silently glowering at Turalyon for a moment before turning away. “...Very well,” she murmured, still clearly angry. 

Despite her still smoldering fury, she accepted Kalira’s hand when it was offered to her. The pleasant chill helped ease the fire beneath her skin. She let out another held breath as her thumb brushed over the rough skin on her knuckles.  Anevay escorted them to the bottom deck of the ship, where three entire sections had been divided between the Alliance, Horde and Legionfall. Anevay led them into the Horde section, where a small number of Orcs and Trolls were drinking. Three blood elves and four Forsaken were in the corner, playing a game of cards.

“As he isn’t a member of the Horde, the guards won’t let Turalyon pass,” Anevay explained. “This is about the only place I can guarantee you some peace and quiet.”

“We appreciate it, High Overlord,” Kalira nodded with a smile. “Thank you.” 

“I’ll see if I can make some tea that’s safe for Alleria to drink,” Anevay nodded. “It might quiet the whispers for a little while. I can’t make anything to silence them permanently however.”

“I understand, Lady Darkflare,” Alleria said softly. “I am grateful for all you have done for me so far. Please don’t cause yourself too much stress on my account, especially with all we still have to do.” 

“It’ll be alright,” Anevay smiled, standing up and glancing at the Orcs and Trolls at the table. “Behave yourselves, boys,” she smirked as she headed for the door.


	8. You Took Me Out of That Hell

Anevay fell to her knees, heaving and coughing up blood as the liquified remains of Argus the Unmaker splattered to the ground. The bodies of her fallen companions practically littered the platform, now covered in branches, leaves and Titan blood. As she tried to contain her hemorrhaging wounds, an eerie silence fell onto the Titans sat on their thrones.  Behind them, the swirling cloud that was Sargeras had very nearly consumed Azeroth whole. With the Legion no longer able to regenerate, it was left to the Titans to deal with their maddened brother.

That wasn’t what the silence was for, however. In truth, Anevay’s companions had been killed with a single strike partway into the fight that Anevay herself had barely managed to roll away from. For the last hour, she had found Argus alone.  She had thought facing against the Lich King by herself was horrible, and it was. But that? That was a whole other kind of hell in and of itself.  For the longest while, the only sound on the platform was Anevay’s labored breathing and choked sobs. 

“You survived,” one Titan, Eonar said, her voices cutting through the silence like a bomb going off. “...Impressive, mortal.” 

Anevay said nothing. She couldn’t. She was in so much pain. 

The Vindicaar hovered near the Seat of the Pantheon, and several Dark Rangers teleported in to help her to her feet. They guided her back to the ship while Velen and Illidan approached to speak with the Titans. As soon as she was inside the ship, the pain practically doubled. She let out a choked scream and fell limp against the rangers. She could do nothing but hang there uselessly, her entire body feeling like it was on fire.  The pain brought her to the verge of passing out several times. She could only catch flashes and snippets of whatever was going on around her. 

_ “-needs a healer-!”  _

_ “-riests won’t work! She-”  _

_ “-at happen-!?” _

After what felt like an eternity in a numb, barely conscious state, her eyes eventually opened again and she groaned in pain. The searing agony had ebbed away to a dull aching, and as she came to her senses she realized that her armor had been removed at some point and piled up in the corner. She was lying in an infirmary bed, her entire body covered with stitches and bruises.

“How long…”

“Three days,” came the gentle voice of a Val’kyr hovering beside her. 

She looked up at it, and her mind started to rush to conclusions. “...Did I…?”

“You survived,” the Val’kyr, who Anevay now recognized as Brynja, replied. “Barely.”

Anevay blinked before her head suddenly dropped back down against the pillow. A part of her was wrestling with the uncertainty of whether she was amazed by her own survival or disappointed. “...How bad was the damage?” she asked, her throat straining to form the words.

“Extensive,” Brynja explained. “The apothecaries spent two days repairing your shattered body. Arcane wards hold your bones together while they heal.”

“When will I be mobile?” Anevay asked, sitting up and feeling the stiffness and the thrum of arcane magic on her joints.

“You should be now, though not without difficulties,” Brynja explained. “The apothecaries have said you need three months to recover.”

“Swell,” Anevay murmured as she eased herself back up onto her feet. “Plenty of time to consider permanent retirement.” She walked about the infirmary, feeling the wards flare and surge to compensate for the sudden increase in activity. “How long until we return to Azeroth?”

“We have actually just arrived, Lady Darkflare,” Brynja nodded, floating after her as she approached her armor and hefted it into a wagon.

“Great. I’ll have someone crate this and send it back to the Undercity,” Anevay nodded as she pulled her leathers on and her cloak over it. Her entire body practically ached with every movement, but she was mobile at the very least and that was all she needed.

Arriving at the teleporter, Anevay met with several Horde officers who were pleased to see she was awake and mobile. Kalira and Alleria met up with her as well, along with Vereesa who looked less than pleased. Looking outside, there was a Khaz Modan and Forsaken ship at the dock on Azuremyst isles, no doubt waiting to take their people home.

“You coming to Lordaeron, Alleria?” Anevay asked as the two helped her to the teleporter.

Alleria blinked. “Oh! Um... well I suppose…”

“It is pretty much on the way to Quel’Thalas,” Kalira said. “We can take you there after we’ve stopped off if you’d rather.” 

Alleria chewed at the bottom of her lip as she considered the option. She tried to ignore the expecting looks around her. Especially from Vereesa who appeared to be silently praying that she would not say yes. “I would like to see what has become of my homeland,” she mused aloud. “...But I wouldn’t mind to see my sister’s kingdom first.”

Anevay smiled as they helped her into the teleporter. In a flash, they were on the ground in front of the docks with the rest of the survivors. The Army of the Light were formed in ranks along a field, while Xe’ra floated among them. Anevay’s attention wasn’t on them, however. It was on the Forsaken ship and the woman she saw standing on it’s deck.

Alleria and Kalira let go of her, and Anevay gingerly walked along the dock, with the two women following her. Vereesa got off the teleporter as well and chased after them. As they neared the ship, Anevay waved to get Sylvanas’ attention, a bright smile on her face.  Sylvanas looked away from Tattersail to see who it was that was approaching the ship. Though she no longer had need of breath, she could not have stopped the small gasp that escaped her lips before she dashed towards her lover. 

She skidded to a halt mere inches away from Anevay, her eyes roaming over her body frantically. “Anevay,” she whispered, tentatively placing her hands on the blood elf’s shoulders. “...You’re back.” 

Anevay winced only slightly and nodded, laying her hands over Sylvanas’. “Yes, I’m back. And I’m not alone,” she said, her voice strained. “I found someone on Argus that you might want to see.”

The odd mixture of relief and worry that was on Sylvanas’ face was swiftly replaced with confusion. “Someone? ...Who?”

Anevay glanced behind her and gestured to Alleria, who stood back just far enough to not have been noticed at first. The elder Windrunner approached, with Kalira following behind her. “Captain Alleria was imprisoned by Velen’s Lightforged allies,” she explained. “I broke her out.”

Sylvanas, admittedly, barely registered what it was that Anevay just said. Her attention was too rapt by what stood before her. Her crimson eyes were blown wide as a storm of questions and conflicting emotions raged in her mind. Shock, joy, fear, bewilderment, caution, relief and dread all fought for domination of her thoughts. The mess that was her thinking process made it impossible for her to utter more than a single word. 

“...Alleria,” she choked out. 

“Sylvanas,” Alleria said just as quietly, her hands wringing in front of her. 

Sylvanas took a single step forward before almost instantly regretting it. This… this felt too close. Too… exposed. She folded her arms to ensure they wouldn’t clenched or tremble at her sides. She reigned in her facial twitches, wanting to give nothing away as she tried to observe her sister behind her trustworthy mask. 

“...Well how unfortunate,” she huffed out. “Your first day back on Azeroth after so long and I didn’t wear my good cloak.” 

Alleria blinked, momentarily stunned by the comment before an instinctive snort of laughter erupted in her throat. Any worries about there being nothing left of her sister practically evaporated in the face of Sylvanas’ signature snark.

“Oh, you mean your good cloak isn’t the one around your fiance’s shoulders right now,” she smirked as she relaxed.

Sylvanas opened her mouth to retort before her brow suddenly furrowed in confusion. “...I’m sorry, my who?”

Alleria’s eyes widened, darting back and forth between Sylvanas and Anevay. “Oh… oh that’s right. She hadn’t…” 

“She hadn’t what?” Sylvanas pressed. Behind her, Anevay practically glared daggers at Alleria while making the kill gesture over her throat, but the damage had already been done. Sylvanas glanced back to Anevay to see her with her face in her palm. “What is she talking about?”

Anevay rubbed her eyes and looked up at Sylvanas sheepishly. “She… she just spoiled the surprise I had been planning,” she said. It was better not to lie to Sylvanas. Not even for benevolent reasons.

“You mentioned the surprise when last we spoke,” Sylvanas recalled before her eyes suddenly widened with realization. “...Anevay, you don’t mean…”

Anevay nodded, carefully fumbling around the insider of her cloak before pulling out a small velvet box that fit in her palm. Sylvanas’ entire body tensed up as she looked at it. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. Anevay wouldn’t be so- 

She laid a hand over the box and pushed it toward Anevay’s chest, cutting off her own thoughts and hastily seeking to regain her composure. “We’ll discuss this later,” she said, almost snarling as she returned her attention to her sister.

“Yes, my Queen,” Anevay nodded, wincing as she turned for the ship.

Alleria frowned as she watched Anevay retreat. “Don’t judge her too harshly, Lady Moon,” she beseeched gently. “It was my mistake to spoil the surprise.” 

“You needn’t worry about that, Lady Sun,” Sylvanas assured Alleria, managing to take a few steps forward and placing a hand on her sister’s shoulder. “This is to be a momentous occasion. The Legion is defeated, my Champion has returned and has brought back an unexpected surprise to boot.” A smile grew on Sylvanas’ dark lips as she looked at Alleria. Her smile wavered slightly when she noticed who it was directly behind her. “...Ah, Vereesa. Another sister I never expected to see again.” 

Vereesa only frowned at that.

“I’ve spoken to your Champion quite a lot on the Vindicaar,” Alleria said, avoiding meeting her sister’s eye. Something about the way they burned was unsettling. “She’s as dedicated as ever. I remember when you took her under your wing all those decades ago. She had a lot to say and… I’m not sure if it’s too late for us to reconnect. But I’d like to try.”

Sylvanas’ throat tightened at that, defensive instincts rising to the forefront of her mind. “...Are you certain that’s a good idea?” she asked. “As you can clearly see, I am not the sister that you remember.” 

“I’ve heard as much from Vereesa and Arator,” Alleria nodded, reaching out to touch Sylvanas’ shoulder. “But I’ve heard different from the people who have been around you. And I’d like to find out for myself if that’s true.”

Sylvanas was quiet for a time, her gaze cast down to the wooden planks of the deck beneath them. This seemed like something that was simply too good to be true. Something that would blow up in her face the moment she caught herself being enthusiastic. The fear of having Alleria back only for her to abandon her just like Vereesa had was nearly suffocating her. 

Except… it was Anevay who brought her back. Anevay who presented Alleria to her so readily. She knew what happened with Vereesa. She wouldn’t subject her to such a thing again if she felt it was a possibility.  Would she?

“...Very well,” Sylvanas nodded. “We can take you to Quel’Thalas by way of Lordaeron if you so desire. I would simply like to get my Champion home safely before we do anything else.” 

Alleria nodded. “Of course. And thank you.”

Sylvanas quietly entered the cabin on the Banshee’s Wail to see Anevay sitting at the desk, looking weary. As she finally got a good look at her, it was clear that Anevay had seen perhaps her worst battle since Northrend. She was covered in bruises, and the arcane signature radiating from her told her that radical measures had to be taken to get her mobile.

“You look tired,” she said quietly, pulling up a chair beside her.

“Fought a Titan,” Anevay smiled weakly, looking up to meet her lover’s eyes.

Something seized in Sylvanas’ chest. “That… wouldn’t have been the same Titan that just recently… stabbed the world, would it?” she asked, unable to keep the crack of panic from her tone.

“No, it was a different- WAIT, SARGERAS DID WHAT?!” Anevay suddenly shouted, before immediately regretting it as her entire midsection flared angrily in protest. She winced and settled down, gripping Sylvanas’ hands. “...No, it was… a different one…”

Sylvanas placed her free hand on Anevay’s shoulder. It was partially to help soothe her lover and partially to keep her from jostling around too much and upsetting her injuries. “Well that’s comforting at least,” she murmured. “As comforting as the knowledge that you fought a Titan could possibly be.”

Anevay nodded in concession and slid her chair closer to Sylvanas. She laid her hands on her shoulders and looked up at her, the last several months without her finally weighing on her mind. By the Sunwell, she missed her so much. “Never again. I’m never going to another planet without you ever again,” she whispered.

That statement filled Sylvanas with such immeasurable relief. Cautiously, she pulled Anevay into an embrace, her face resting in the crook of her neck. “...I missed you so much, Dalah’surfal,” she husked out, her voice cracking noticeably.

“I missed you too, my Queen,” Anevay whispered, burying her face into Sylvanas’ chest and basking in the comforting chill of her embrace. “I… I have something I need to ask you.”

“Ask it,” Sylvanas said before taking in the familiar, comforting scent of Anevay’s hair. That aroma of peacebloom with just a hint of sulfur was enough to nearly unmake her in that moment. By the Endless Dark, she needed this. She needed this woman back more than she needed anything.

Anevay reluctantly pulled back from her lover’s embrace, just enough to be able to look her in the eye. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as the anticipation grew. This was it. She was about to finally do it. She’d been planning it for three months and now here she was. She couldn’t pull the box out of her cloak in her position, it simply hurt too much, but she didn’t care.

She reached up and touched Sylvanas’ cold cheek as she took a deep breath. “Sylvanas… will you marry me?”

Sylvanas recalled how this surprise was spoiled mere moments ago, and yet the question still took her by surprise. Because, despite everything they have said and shared together, the thought of Anevay asking her such a question seemed preposterous. Cynically, she knew this question meant very little. Marriage would not magically make their souls indivisible or anything of the sort. In truth, marriage was little more than a political function, even in this day and age.  But the fact that Anevay was asking for her hand in marriage, was asking to spend the rest of her life, and likely then some, with her. It struck her. It struck her harder than anything she had ever felt. So much so that she questioned whether this was even real. 

But when she turned her attention back to those eyes, those eyes that burned with such love and passion, she knew. She truly knew it was real. There was no question or complication. It just was.  “...Yes,” she said, her voice breaking slightly.

Anevay let out a small sigh of relief, her eyes welling up with tears. Damn the pain, damn the apothecaries’ advice, she couldn’t resist lunging forward and throwing her arms around Sylvanas’ shoulders. She let out a soft whine as she squeezed as hard as her shattered bones would allow, clinging to her now fiance as if afraid she would vanish if she let go.

Sylvanas returned the hug as strongly as she dared, given what state Anevay was in. She let out a single shuddering breath as the hand she carted through her auburn hair balled into a fist. All cynicism, all paranoia was suddenly banished from her mind. This was a good moment. This…  This was one of the happiest moments in her existence. Something she never thought she would experience ever again. 

Eventually, Anevay pulled away. Her hand found Sylvanas’ cheek again, relishing in the long-missed chill. “I got to thinking while I was on the Vindicaar. About how my life could have gone in a truly horrible direction if it hadn’t been for you. How you snatched me from certain doom more than once.”

Sylvanas let out a peculiar noise that resided somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Greatest feats of my life,” she said, leaning into Anevay’s immaculately warm hand. “I’m convinced I would have been far worse off without you, Dalah’surfal. With you, I want to do more than just survive. ...I want to be. I wish to thrive with you. Now more than ever.” 

“Me too,” Anevay nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “When I was a girl, I was convinced I’d never have a life of my own. That I was just going to be sold off for everyone else’s personal gain. I never got to be my own person, or really have a childhood of my own. I was a prisoner, being traded like a prisoner.”

She wiped her eyes and held Sylvanas close, pressing their foreheads together.

“You didn’t just save my life when you took me in and trained me, you  _ gave  _ me one,” she whispered. Her hands gripped the front of Sylvanas’ cloak tightly, almost afraid to let go. “You took me out of that hell. You’re… my hero.”

If the Banshee Queen could still cry, she would likely be weeping at that moment. She was accustomed to those who served her calling her their hero, but with Anevay it felt so… sincere. So intimate. She found herself craving it. 

“I would save you from any force that threatened to do you harm,” she vowed softly, her thumb brushing over the shell of Anevay’s ear as she spoke. “I would tear the cosmos asunder if it tried to keep me away from you. So long as we both walk upon this earth, I swear this to you. I will forever stand by your side. As your Queen. As your hero… and as your wife.”

Anevay was practically crying enough for the both of them, and pulled her in enough to press a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips. It was nothing like any kiss they had shared before. It was delicate, almost timid. And yet she poured her heart out into it, digging her fingers into Sylvanas’ cloak and whimpering softly as her tears fell down her cheeks.  The Banshee Queen nearly broke dowl in tearless sobs at just how gentle the kiss was. Somehow, all the passionate and indulgent kisses they shared in the past didn’t quite measure up to this. Was it because of the future they were going to build together? Was it because that she felt relieved that she would finally have some lasting force of happiness in her unlife? 

In truth, there was only one question left to ask before everything would be perfect. “...When?”

Anevay pulled away from her completely and wiped her face on her own cloak. “I uh… I want to do it as soon as possible,” she said, her voice cracking from how hard she’d been crying. “I waited too long to ask you, I don’t want to wait any longer for this.”

Sylvanas smiled. Something about Anevay’s lack of patience on the matter was endearing and positively adorable. “I will fetch a priest as soon as we reach Lordaeron,” she confirmed. 

“Thank you,” Anevay smiled brightly despite how red and raw her eyes were. Then she let out a soft chuckle. “If we’re quick enough, your sister could watch you get married.”

Sylvanas snorted with laughter. “What a wonderful occasion to come home to. It took me finding the perfect woman in order to bring her home and now she finally gets to see me settle down.” She chuckled once more before planting a fond kiss on Anevay’s lips.

Anevay’s eyes widened slightly and a blush came to her cheeks. “...You think I’m perfect?” she said quietly.

“I  _ know _ you are,” Sylvanas grinned, brushing her fingers along those flushed cheeks. “You’re strong, smart, reliable, absolutely gorgeous, but most importantly, you are kind. That is something I needed more than I was willing to admit.” 

Anevay leaned into Sylvanas’ hand, cooing softly at her touch, and at her praise. She hadn’t really given much thought to how reliable and kind she’d been to the Forsaken over the years. In truth, she knew that the kindness she showed them was rare among the Living, but it just came so naturally to her that she hadn’t paid much attention to it. As far as she’d always been concerned, the Forsaken had taken her in when she had nowhere else to go. Her kindness and the effort she expended trying to make their unlives just a little bit happier seemed only natural to give in turn.

But over the years, she’d gone from ‘that weird elf who lives here’ to a genuine friend to the Forsaken, and to Sylvanas. And it was a sobering feeling when she realized that what made her so valuable to the Forsaken was something that any living person  _ could  _ have given them at any point in time. She was simply the only one who  _ did _ .

“...It was what you deserved,” Anevay whispered, pulling Sylvanas in for a hug and laying her head on the Banshee Queen’s shoulder.

“I understand that now, thanks to you,” Sylvanas crooned. She placed a kiss onto the crook of Anevay’s neck before ever so carefully scooped her new fiance up in her arms and rose to her feet. “In the meantime, you still need rest,” she said as she carried Anevay over to the small bet that resided in the cabin. “Come. I’ll lay with you until we reach Lordaeron.”

“That sounds lovely, my Queen,” Anevay whispered as she snuggled in Sylvanas’ arms. Maybe she wouldn’t be retiring as soon as she’d wanted to a few hours ago. There were still wars on the horizon to fight, and she wanted to fight them alongside her Warchief.

Her Queen.

Her wife.


End file.
